/ 


A   STAR  OF  THE  SALONS 


A   STAR   OF   THE 
SALONS 

JULIE  DE  LESPINASSE 


BY 

CAMILLA    JEBB 


WITH    TWENTY     ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK:   G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 
LONDON:   METHUEN   &   CO. 


First  Published  in  i()o8 


INTRODUCTION 

'""T'HE  remarkable  woman  whose  name  stands  on 
*•  the  title-page  of  this  book  has  for  several  years 
exercised  a  singular  fascination  over  me.  My  ideas 
concerning  her,  derived  in  the  first  instance  mainly 
from  the  standard  edition  of  her  "  Letters  to  Guibert" 
by  M.  Eugene  Asse  (supplemented  by  his  little  book, 
"  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  et  la  Marquise  du 
Deffand,"  and  by  M.  Charles  Henry's  "  Lettres  Inedites 
de  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse),  have  been  of  course 
enormously  enlarged  since  the  appearance  of  the 
Marquis  de  Segur's  invaluable  study,  "  Julie  de 
Lespinasse."  It  would  be  impossible  for  me  ade- 
quately to  express  the  gratitude  which,  in  common 
with  all  admirers  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse, 
I  feel  towards  M.  de  Segur  for  the  discoveries  due 
to  his  research  (notably  as  regards  the  de  Vichy 
family  and  the  Marquis  de  Mora),  and  also  for  the 
extraordinary  insight  and  sympathy  with  which  he 
has  treated  the  whole  subject.  The  subsequent  re- 
publication  of  the  "  Letters,"  by  the  Comte  de  Ville- 
neuve-Guibert  has  been  also  an  event  of  much  im- 
portance, as  this  revised  edition  includes  many  passages 
previously  omitted,  and  further,  a  considerable  number 


2137573 


vi  A  STAR  OF  THE  SALONS 

of  Guibert's  replies,  hitherto  supposed  to  be  irretriev- 
ably lost. 

I  have  ventured  to  hope  that  the  story  of  Julie  de 
Lespinasse,  as  seen  by  a  biographer  of  her  own  sex 
and  of  different  nationality,  may  reveal  some  aspects 
of  the  case  hitherto  unnoticed  and  not  without  interest. 
I  have  also  endeavoured  to  give  some  idea  of  the  back- 
ground against  which  she  moved,  and  the  strange 
transitional  epoch  in  which  her  life  was  cast. 

In  conclusion,  I  would  fain  offer  my  earnest  thanks 
to  M.  Charles  Henry,  M.  le  Marquis  d'Albon,  M.  le 
Marquis  de  Segur,  M.  Pierre  de  Nolhac  and  M. 
Gruyer  for  the  personal  kindness  they  have  shown 
to  me,  a  stranger  and  an  alien,  and  the  many  valuable 
suggestions  with  which  they  have  helped  me. 

The  principal  authorities  consulted,  apart  from  those 
which  I  have  already  enumerated,  are,  the  memoirs, 
correspondence  and  writings  generally  of  d'Alembert, 
Madame  du  Deffand,  Turgot,  Condorcet,  Marmontel, 
Diderot,  Morellet,  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  d'Argenson, 
Due  de  Lauzun,  Horace  Walpole,  Duclos,  Madame 
de  Genlis,  Madame  Roland,  Madame  d'Epinay, 
Madame  de  Tencin,  Madame  Suard,  Madame  de 
Staal-Delaunay  ;  the  works  of  the  Brothers  Goncourt, 
Taine,  de  Tocqueville,  Sainte  Beuve,  Mr  John  Morley 
and  Lady  Dilke  ;  Grimm's  "  Correspondance  Litter- 
aire,"  Mercier's  "Tableau  de  Paris";  Restif  de  la 
Bretonne's  "Nuitsde  Paris";  Arthur  Young's  "Travels 
in  France"  ;  John  Hill  Burton's  "  Letters  of  Eminent 
Persons  addressed  to  David  Hume"  and  "  Life  and 
Correspondence  of  David  Hume";  "  Lettres  de 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

Mademoiselle  A'isse "  (ed.  Eugene  Asse) ;  M.  de 
Segur's  "Gens  d'Autrefois " ;  M.  de  Haussonville's 
"Salon  de  Madame  Necker";  M.  Guillois'  "Salon 
de  Madame  Helvetius" ;  M.  Maugras'  "Les  comediens 
hors  la  loi "  ;  "  Le  President  He"nault  et  Madame  du 
Deffand,"  by  Lucien  Percy  ;  "  Les  Encyclopedistes," 
by  L.  Ducros;  "Mesdames  nos  Ai'eules,"  by  A.  Robida. 

C.  J. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  STRANGE  FAMILY  HISTORY         ....  i 

II.  THE  HEROINE  AS  INSTRUCTRESS    .        .        .        .  n 

III.  FRENCH    COUNTRY    LIFE    IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH 

CENTURY   ........  28 

IV.  A  NOTABLE  VISITOR 41 

V.  IN  CONVENT  WALLS 53 

VI.  AN  OPENING  IN  LIFE .65 

VII.  "THE  FLAUNTING  TOWN" 78 

VIII.  NEW  FRIENDS 89 

IX.  THE  FOUNDLING  OF  SAINT  JEAN  LE  ROND    .        .  105 

X.  PHILOSOPHY  AND  Music 118 

XI.  THE  NEW  THEOLOGY  AND  ITS  EXPONENTS    .        .  133 

XII.  OUTLAWS  BY  PROFESSION 147 

XIII.  THE  ROOT  OF  BITTERNESS    .        .        .        .        .  161 

XIV.  "LIKE  WATER  SPRINKLED  ON  THE  PLAIN"    .        .  173 
XV.  A  NEW  DEPARTURE .187 

XVI.  THE  DESTROYER  OF  BEAUTY          ...»  203 

XVII.  A  WOMAN'S  KINGDOM 214 


x  A  STAR  OF  THE  SALONS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVIII.  FRIENDS  IN  COUNCIL 225 

XIX.  THE  COMING  OF  LOVE  .  ....  238 

XX.  A  PINCHBECK  HERO 252 

XXI.  THE  TENTH  OF  FEBRUARY 266 

XXII.  FOR  ONE,  DESPAIR;  FOR  MANY,  HOPE.        .         .  279 

XXIII.  POLITICS  AND  A  PRETTY  WEDDING        .        .        .  292 

XXIV.  Two  LITERARY  ENTERPRISES        ....  306 
XXV.  REQUIESCAT .        .322 

INDEX 339 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

JULIE  DE  LESPINASSE  ....  Frontispiece 

From   a  water-colour   sketch    by    Carmontelle   in   the   Muste  de 
Chantilly. 

FACING    PAGE 

MADEMOISELLE  DE  BETHISY  ET  SON  FRERE  .  .  .22 

From  a  tainting  by  A.  S.  Belle  in  the  Must'e  de  Versailles. 

LA  MARQUISE  DU  DEFFAND  .  ....         44 

By  Forshel,  after  Carmontelle. 

LA  DUCHESSE  DU  MAINE  (in  childhood)        .  .  .48 

From  the  painting  by  Mignard  in  the  Musfe  de  Versailles. 

CARDINAL  DE  TENCIN  .  .  .  .62 

From  an  engraving  after  the  painting  in  the  Muste  de  Versailles. 

LES  CHATS  DE  MADAME  DU  DEFFAND  (showing  her  bedroom 

at  St  Joseph)       ......         80 

From  an  engraving  by  Cochin  in  the  Bibliothtquc  Nationale. 

LE  PRESIDENT  RENAULT        .....         90 

From  a  drawing  in  the  Bibliothcque  Nationale, 

MADAME  DE  TENCIN  ......       108 

From  an  engraving  in  the  Bibliothcqus  Nationale. 

D'ALEMBERT  .  .  .  .  .  .  .          Il6 

From  the  original  by  Latour  in  the  Muste  de  Saint  Quentin. 
(Photo.  Mons.J.  E.  Bulloz.) 

DIDEROT        .......       136 

After  Greuze. 

MADEMOISELLE  CLAIRON        .  .  .  .  .156 

From  an  engraving  by  Cochin  in  the  Bibliothtyue  Nationale. 

LA  DUCHESSE  DE  CHATILLON  ....       182 

From  a  painting  by  Rosalba  Carritra  in  the  Louvre. 
xi 


xii  LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

MADAME  GEOFFRIN    .  .  .  .  .192 

From  the  portrait  by  Chardin  in  the  Mus&  de  Montpellier. 
(Photo.  Mons.  A.  Giraudon.) 

LA  THE  A  L'ANGLAISE  CHEZ  MONSIEUR  LE  PRINCE  DE  CONTI       224 

From  a  painting  by  M.  B.  Ollivier  in  the  Louvre.  (Madame  de 
Luxembourg,  the  Comtesse  de  Boujflers,  the  Prince  de  Conti, 
Pont  de  Veyle  and  Htnault  appear  in  this  group. )  (Photo. 
Mons.  Neurdein.} 

LE  MARQUIS  DE  CONDORCET  .....       230 

School  of  Greuze  in  the  Muste  de  Versailles. 

LE  COMTE  DE  GUIBERT  .....          258 

From  an  engraving  after  the  painting  by  London  in  the  Biblio- 
theque  Nationale. 

TURGOT  .  .  .  .  .  .  .288 

From  the  painting  in  the  Musee  de  Versailles. 

MADEMOISELLE   DE   COURCELLES,   AFTERWARDS    COMTESSE 

DE  GUIBERT        ......       300 

From  the  painting  by  Greuze.  (Photo.  Mons.  Braun,  Clement 
et  Cie.) 

THE  TEMPLE.     Residence  of  the  Prince  de  Conti,  where 

Guibert  gave  readings  of  The  Constable  .  .  .316 

From  a  painting  in  the  MusJe  Carnavalet. 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE   .  .  .  .  .  .320 

From  a  bust  (1774-1 779).     /«  the  Louvre. 


A  STAR  OF  THE  SALONS 

CHAPTER  I 

A    STRANGE    FAMILY    HISTORY 

ON  the  9th  of  November  1732,  in  a  modest  house 
at  Lyon,  long  since  demolished,  there  came 
into  the  world  a  little  girl  destined  to  be  hereafter 
distinguished  by  a  remarkable  character  and  a  career 
equally  remarkable.  No  rejoicings  welcomed  her 
birth,  for  it  was  the  direct  evidence  of  her  mother's 
shame,  and  public  opinion,  even  in  that  tolerant  age, 
required  that  so  palpable  a  fact  should  be  shrouded 
by  a  veil  of  decent  mystery. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  above-mentioned  was 
by  profession  a  midwife,  while  her  husband  practised 
the  calling,  then  esteemed  almost  equally  humble,  of 
surgeon.  The  lady  who,  probably  under  an  assumed 
name,  had  sought  shelter  and  assistance  from  this 
respectable  couple  was  Julie  d'Albon,  the  heiress  of 
an  ancient  and  illustrious  family  represented  at  the 
present  day  by  a  lineal  descendant  of  this  very 
Countess.  Her  relations,  naturally  wishing  to  keep 
the  ancestral  estates  which  had  fallen  to  her  lot  in  the 
family  name,  had  married  her,  at  the  age  of  sixteen, 
to  the  Comte  d'Albon,  her  cousin.  In  spite  of  all  the 
excellent  arguments  which  are  nowadays  urged  in 
defence  of  such  mariages  de  convenance,  it  is  an  in- 
contestable fact  that  this  union  was  not  a  happy  one. 


2  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

For  over  twelve  years  the  young  people  lived  an 
outwardly  united  life  in  the  ancient  feudal  chateau 
of  Avauges,  which  formed  part  of  Julie  d'Albon's  in- 
heritance. They  had  four  children  (of  whom  only 
two  survived),  but  soon  after  the  birth  of  the  last 
— the  son  and  heir — the  Comte  d'Albon  quitted 
Avauges,  never  apparently  to  return,  and  withdrew 
to  his  native  town  of  Roanne,  where  he  spent  the 
rest  of  his  life. 

The  causes  of  this  rupture  are  matter  of  conjecture 
only,  but  it  seems  almost  certain  that,  up  to  that  time, 
the  balance  of  wrongdoing  had  lain  on  the  side  of 
the  man.  Otherwise  it  would  be  difficult  to  account 
for  the  humble  and  effaced  role  which  he  henceforward 
sustained.  He  long  survived  his  wife,  but  seems  to 
have  been  all  along  ignored  by  his  children,  who  were 
left  in  their  mother's  care.  The  French  husband  was 
then  armed  by  law  with  formidable  powers  against  an 
offending  wife.  If  legal  evidence  of  her  faithlessness 
was  forthcoming  he  could  imprison  her  for  life  in  a 
convent  and  appropriate  all  her  money,  subject  to  a 
bare  maintenance  of  some  fifty  pounds  a  year.  Such 
rigour  was  indeed  little  in  accordance  with  the  spirit 
of  the  age,  but  the  statutes  authorising  it  remained 
in  force,  and  instances  of  their  revival  occurred  at  a 
much  later  period  than  that  at  present  in  question.  If 
the  Comte  d'Albon  did  not,  in  the  light  of  his  wife's 
subsequent  behaviour,  attempt  even  to  deprive  her  of 
the  guardianship  of  the  children  or  the  control  of  her 
estates,  of  which  she  was  left  mistress,  it  must  have 
been  from  a  consciousness  that  his  own  conduct  had 
not  been  such  as  would  bear  the  light  of  publicity. 

The  exact  nature  of  the  conditions  under  which  the 
young  couple  parted  is  also  uncertain.     Divorce,  in 


A   STRANGE   FAMILY  HISTORY  3 

the  proper  sense  of  the  term,  was  then  unknown 
in  France,  as  in  other  Roman  Catholic  countries. 
D'Argenson,  it  may  be  observed,  though  a  student 
of  law,  appears  surprised  at  discovering  its  existence 
amongst  Protestants.  Judicial  separations,  on  the  con- 
trary, were  in  this  century  of  common  occurrence,  and, 
as  in  a  modern  police  court,  were  nearly  always 
at  the  suit  of  the  wife,  the  husband  being  very 
properly  disqualified  as  a  plaintiff  by  the  ample,  or 
rather  excessive,  privileges  which  he  already  possessed. 
La  demanderesse  en  separation  was  a  prominent  figure 
in  the  social  life  of  the  period.  At  one  time  as  many 
as  three  hundred  women  were  carrying  on  suits  of 
this  kind — an  enormous  proportion  when  we  remem- 
ber that  they  must  have  been  drawn  wholly  from  the 
upper  and  middle  classes  of  society.  These  revolting 
wives — who,  it  may  be  observed  in  passing,  had 
generally  excellent  reasons  for  their  revolt — were 
required  by  decorum  to  retire  while  their  suits  were 
pending  to  certain  convents  set  apart  to  receive  them, 
and  lived  by  no  means  in  conventual  seclusion,  re- 
ceiving visits  from  their  friends  and  lawyers,  and 
spending  hours  daily  in  court,  for  it  was  a  point  of 
honour  for  each  to  be  present  at  the  cases  of  all 
the  others. 

Judicial  separation  was  of  two  kinds — of  the  per- 
son and  of  property.  The  first,  which  sanctioned  the 
living  apart  of  the  couple,  was  granted  only  in  case  of 
great  cruelty  or  extraordinary  profligacy  on  the  side 
of  the  husband.  The  second,  by  which  the  wife  was 
given  control  of  her  own  money,  could  be  obtained  if 
sufficient  evidence  were  produced  to  show  that  the 
husband  was  likely  to  squander  her  fortune.  This 
kind  of  separation  could  be  arranged  privately,  and 


4  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

in  some  cases  the  marriage  contract  was  from  the 
first  drawn  up  on  the  basis  of  separate  estates, 
much  as,  in  England,  a  woman's  dowry  was  sometimes 
settled  on  her  for  her  own  use.  Probably  this  last 
arrangement  was  that  which  existed  between  the 
Comte  and  Comtesse  d'Albon.  At  anyrate  it  is 
almost  certain  that  there  could  have  been  no  formal 
"separation  of  the  person,"  or  Madame  d'Albon  would 
not,  as  she  at  one  time  did,  have  contemplated  the 
possibility  of  legitimatising  the  daughter  born  some 
years  after  she  had  ceased  to  live  with  her  husband. 

We  must  not  judge  the  conduct  of  the  young  wife, 
thus  left  practically  a  widow,  by  the  standard  of  our 
own  times.  From  the  point  of  view  of  most  of  her 
contemporaries  it  was  inevitable  that  a  woman  in  such 
circumstances  should  take  a  husband  informally.  It 
would  seem,  however,  that  she  must  have  acted  with 
unusual  caution  ;  for,  though  all  her  acquaintance  knew 
that  she  had  a  lover,  nobody  knew  who  he  was,  and 
it  is  only  quite  recently  that  his  identity  has  been 
revealed  by  the  patient  research  of  M.  de  Segur, 
concerning  whose  discovery  more  will  be  said  pres- 
ently. When  her  legitimate  son,  Camille,  was  six 
years  old,  Madame  d'Albon  gave  birth  to  another  boy, 
of  whom  scarcely  anything  is  known.  H  e  was  educated, 
apparently,  in  a  monastery  at  Lyon,  and  in  due  time 
professed  as  a  monk.  Twenty  months  later  was  born 
his  sister,  the  subject  of  the  present  memoir,  whom  a 
far  different  lot  awaited. 

The  little  girl  was  baptised  the  day  after  her  birth 
in  a  neighbouring  church — still,  we  believe,  existing, 
at  Lyon — and  received  the  names  of  Julie-Jeanne- 
£leonore,  being  entered  in  the  parish  register  as  the 
child  of  "Claude  Lespinasse,  bourgeois  de  Lyon,  and 


A   STRANGE   FAMILY   HISTORY  5 

dame  Julie  Navarre,  his  wife."  Both  of  these  are 
purely  fictitious  personages,  the  name  of  Lespinasse 
being  derived  from  one  of  the  d'Albon  estates.  Of 
the  years  which  immediately  followed  little  is  known 
beyond  the  fact  that  Madame  d'Albon  could  not  bring 
herself  to  renounce  her  daughter  as  she  had,  in  effect, 
renounced  her  son.  The  childhood  of  the  little  Julie 
was  almost  certainly  passed  in  the  ancient  chateau  of 
Avauges,  which  stood  on  the  road  between  Lyon  and 
Tarare.  A  photograph  now  before  me  represents  the 
chateau  as  it  has  existed  since  1765,  a  long  three- 
storeyed  edifice,  in  the  style  of  Louis  XV.,  but  at  the 
period  of  the  story  at  which  we  have  so  far  arrived 
the  site  was  occupied  by  a  genuine  feudal  castle,  with 
moat  and  battlements  ;  a  fitting  abode  for  a  family 
which  traces  its  descent  backward  through  at  least 
eight  centuries.  Hither,  no  doubt,  the  girl  was 
brought  after  a  year  or  more  spent,  as  was  then  the 
custom  even  with  legitimate  children,  in  the  cottage 
of  some  humble  foster-mother.  She  was  known 
always  under  the  name  of  Lespinasse,  and  some 
transparent  pretext  of  adoption  was  probably  invented 
to  account  for  her  presence  at  the  castle ;  for  just  as  it 
was  necessary  that  her  birth,  though  its  approach  was 
doubtless  known  to  all  the  neighbourhood,  should  not 
take  place  at  her  mother's  house,  so  the  convenances 
forbade  that  she  should  be  explicitly  owned,  though 
she  might  be  treated  as  a  daughter. 

Her  early  childhood  was  certainly  happy.  She  was 
brought  up  with  the  same  care  as  the  two  legitimate 
children,  and  probably  treated  with  equal  respect. 
But  when  she  was  seven  years  old  an  event  occurred 
which  was  destined  to  exercise  a  most  unfavourable  in- 
fluence upon  her  future — the  marriage,  namely,  of  her 


6  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

half-sister,  Diane  d'Albon,  with  Gaspard  de  Vichy- 
Champrond,  a  neighbour,  and  an  old  friend  of  the 
family.  In  order  to  explain  how  the  fortunes  of  Julie 
were  affected  by  this  alliance  it  will  be  necessary  here 
to  consider  the  question  of  her  descent  on  the  father's 
side,  a  question  much  debated  by  the  gossips  of  her 
own  day,  and  in  later  times  by  litterateurs  who  have 
interested  themselves  in  her  history.  The  secret,  as 
has  been  already  said,  was  preserved  with  such  extra- 
ordinary care  that,  in  spite  of  various  obviously  unten- 
able conjectures,  it  has  remained  unknown  till  within 
the  last  year  or  two,  when  the  key  to  the  mystery  was 
found  by  M.  de  Se"gur  in  some  hitherto  unpublished 
manuscripts.  The  father  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse  was, 
he  thinks,  no  other  than  that  very  Gaspard  de  Vichy 
who,  seven  years  after  her  birth,  became  the  hus- 
band of  her  elder  sister.  The  situation — a  sufficiently 
familiar  one  to  students  of  modern  French  fiction — is 
not  pleasant  to  contemplate.  We  can  imagine  the 
suitor,  level-headed,  hard-natured,  bent,  at  all  costs, 
upon  an  advantageous  establishment  for  himself,  and 
careless  of  the  means  by  which  it  is  obtained ;  the 
girl  knowing  nothing  of  the  horrible  complication,  and 
fascinated,  perhaps,  as  girls,, have  often  been  fascinated, 
by  the  finished  manners  and  ripe  experience  of  a  lover 
twenty-one  years  older  than  herself ;  the  mother  heart- 
wrung,  conscience-stricken,  yielding  reluctantly  to  the 
pressure  brought  from  both  sides  to  bear  upon  her. 
It  must  have  been  plain  enough  to  her  that  no  good 
could  come  of  such  a  marriage  for  any  of  the  persons 
concerned,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  she  at  first  fore- 
saw the  full  extent  of  the  calamity  thus  entailed  upon 
the  poor  child  whose  interests  should  have  been  as 
sacred  to  Gaspard  as  they  were  to  herself. 


A   STRANGE   FAMILY   HISTORY  7 

This  strange  and  sinister  son-in-law  was  fully  re- 
solved that  the  portion  of  his  wife,  the  only  legitimate 
daughter,  should  not  be  diminished  by  any  provision 
for  her  unacknowledged  sister.  He  offered  a  deter- 
mined resistance  to  every  measure  attempted  for  this 
purpose  by  Madame  d'Albon.  Diane,  who  had  now 
been  instructed  of  the  true  state  of  affairs,  seems,  to  her 
credit,  to  have  proved  herself  less  obdurate,  but  her 
husband's  authority  was  with  her  supreme,  and  she 
dared  offer  no  resistance  to  his  will.  His  influence 
extended  even  to  Camille  d'Albon,  who  had  at  first 
shown  much  affection  for  his  little  sister,  but  was  now 
led  to  consider  his  own  rights  as  incompatible  with 
hers,  and  hence  to  take  sides  against  her.  It  was, 
doubtless,  in  the  hope  of  placing  the  girl  on  a  footing 
which  should  render  her  independent  of  these  hostilely 
disposed  relatives  that  her  mother  conceived  the  idea 
of  obtaining  recognition  for  her  as  a  lawful  descendant 
of  the  house  of  d'Albon.  I  n  view  of  Madame  d' Albon's 
long  alienation  from  her  husband,  this  seems  to  us 
moderns  an  utterly  chimerical  project,  but  there  was 
not  much  limit  in  those  days  to  the  things  that  could 
be  accomplished  by  people  of  rank  and  wealth,  and 
that  the  plan  had  every  chance  of  success  is  proved 
by  the  intense  alarm  which  it  inspired  in  Gaspard  de 
Vichy.  So  fierce  was  the  opposition  made  by  him,  and, 
at  his  prompting,  by  his  wife  and  brother-in-law,  that 
the  Countess  found  herself  obliged  to  give  way. 

All  that  she  ventured  openly  to  do  was  to  insert 
in  her  will  a  clause  bequeathing  to  "  Julie-Jeanne- 
E16onore  Lespinasse,  daughter  of  Claude  Lespinasse 
and  Julie  Navarre,"  an  annuity  of  300  francs,  with 
a  further  legacy  of  6000  francs  to  be  paid  in  case 
she  either  married  or  entered  religion.  Bequests 


8  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

of  a  like  nature,  but  somewhat  smaller  in  amount, 
were  also  made  in  favour  of  Hilaire- Hubert,  Julie's 
brother  by  the  full  blood,  who  two  years  after  the 
death  of  Madame  d'Albon  did  in  effect  "enter  re- 
ligion," and  presumably  received  the  scanty  portion 
assigned  him  in  that  event.  But  the  daughter,  who 
had  been  from  infancy  her  mother's  companion,  could 
not  be  so  lightly  set  aside  as  the  son,  whom  she  had, 
perhaps,  never  seen  since  his  birth.  Unknown  to 
Gaspard  and  Camille,  the  Countess  had  contrived 
to  lay  by  a  large  sum  of  money  in  a  desk  in  her 
room,  and  on  the  eve  of  her  death,  which  occurred 
about  a  year  and  a  half  after  the  above  will  was 
drawn,  she  called  the  girl,  then  aged  fifteen,  to  her 
bedside,  and  secretly  gave  the  whole  amount  into 
her  possession,  with  injunctions  to  keep  it  for  herself. 
The  poor  child,  unfitted  alike  by  age,  temperament 
and  education  for  that  grim  "struggle  for  existence" 
which  was  henceforth  to  be  her  portion,  handed  over 
the  money  intact  to  her  brother,  Camille  (who  made 
no  hesitation  about  taking  it),  and  never  benefited  to 
the  extent  of  a  single  penny  by  her  mother's  dying  gift. 
It  was  a  dreary  prospect  indeed  which  lay  before 
the  hapless  girl,  now  worse  than  orphaned.  She  had 
been  passionately  attached  to  her  mother,  whose 
name,  as  she  wrote  long  afterwards,  was  "dear  and 
venerable"  to  her.  It  would  indeed  appear  from 
many  strong  indications  that  the  terms  on  which  the 
two  stood  to  each  other  were  far  more  affectionate 
and  familiar  than  was  then  usual  between  parents 
and  children.  Instead  of  being  banished,  like  the 
great  majority  of  her  contemporaries,  to  a  convent 
school,  she  was  brought  up  at  the  side  of  her  mother, 
who  herself  superintended  her  education,  and  "en- 


A   STRANGE   FAMILY  HISTORY  9 

deavoured  by  double  tenderness  to  make  amends  for 
having  bestowed  upon  her  the  fatal  gift  of  life." 
Evidently  the  years  passed  brightly  and  peacefully 
for  the  child  until  the  ill-omened  marriage  of  Diane 
and  the  unrelenting  attitude  of  Julie's  father  reduced 
Madame  d'Albon  to  an  extremity  of  distress  which 
she  was  unable  to  conceal  from  the  innocent  object 
of  her  anxiety.  She  terrified  the  little  girl  by  vague 
hints  concerning  the  dire  misfortunes  awaiting  her 
in  the  future,  the  cruel  enemies  besetting  her  path ; 
"often,"  we  are  told,  "she  bathed  her  secretly  with 
her  tears."  The  effect  upon  a  sensitive  and  affection- 
ate child  might  easily  be  imagined,  even  if  we  had 
not  the  after-testimony  of  Julie  herself.  "Strange 
irony  of  fate ! "  she  writes,  not  long  before  her  death, 
to  her  friend  Condorcet,  "  my  childhood  was  rendered 
unhappy  by  the  very  care  and  affection  which  in- 
creased my  sensitiveness.  I  was  familiar  with  terror 
and  dismay  before  I  had  the  power  of  reasoning  or 
understanding."  There  would  be  the  less  to  distract 
her  from  these  gloomy  impressions,  as  Camille,  who 
had  made  her  his  pet  and  playfellow,  must  now  have 
left  Avauges  to  enter  the  army,  and  she  remained 
alone  with  her  mother  in  a  solitude  only  broken  by 
occasional  visits  from  country  neighbours  or  expedi- 
tions to  the  provincial  town  of  Lyon,  where  Madame 
d'Albon  had  a  house. 

Up  to  the  time  of  her  mother's  death,  the  girl, 
beyond  a  general  conviction  that  there  was  something 
very  much  wrong  indeed,  does  not  seem  to  have 
understood  the  true  nature  of  her  position.  She  must 
certainly  have  been  far  from  realising  the  state  of 
Ishmael-like  isolation  to  which  she  was  now  reduced 
when  she  confided  to  her  treacherous  brother  the 


10  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

money  designed  to  secure  for  her  some  measure  of 
independence.  Perhaps  it  was  the  reading  of  Madame 
d'Albon's  will,  perhaps  the  uncompromising  explana- 
tions of  her  relatives,  which  revealed  to  this  petted 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  house  the  existence  of  poverty 
and  humiliation  awaiting  her.  Perhaps,  as  one  auth- 
ority asserts,  she  did  not,  even  then,  understand  that 
she  had  any  other  cause  for  sorrow  than  the  sufficient 
one  of  having  lost  her  best  friend.  However  this 
may  be,  her  anguish  of  grief  aroused  the  sympathy 
of  Diane  de  Vichy,  who  had  come,  of  course,  to  attend 
her  mother's  funeral.  Even  Gaspard's  heart  was 
touched  with  something  like  pity  for  the  daughter 
whom  he  had  done  his  best  to  render  destitute.  They 
proposed  to  the  desolate  girl  that  she  should  make 
her  home  with  them,  an  offer  which  she  accepted 
almost  with  joy — she  had  indeed  no  other  resource. 
Camille,  though  much  hardened  by  contact  with  the 
world,  had  not  as  yet  lost  all  affection  for  his  young 
sister,  but,  as  a  soldier  and  a  bachelor,  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him,  even  had  he  been  so  minded, 
to  take  her  personally  under  his  protection.  So  late 
as  1760,  Madame  de  Genlis  notes  that  it  was  not  con- 
sidered decorous  even  for  the  wives  of  officers  to 
accompany  their  husbands  when  on  military  duty. 
Garrison  towns  had  then  a  bad  name  ;  to  make  them 
taboo  for  all  women  of  good  reputation  was  not  perhaps 
the  best  expedient  for  improving  it,  but  for  a  girl  of 
Julie's  age  to  break  through  such  a  convention  was 
plainly  out  of  the  question.  Accompanied  therefore  by 
her  sister  and  her  brother-in-law,  whose  true  position 
towards  herself  was  still  probably  unknown  to  her, 
she  set  out  for  their  country  house  at  Champrond  in 
the  adjoining  province. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    HEROINE   AS    INSTRUCTRESS 


CHAMPROND,  the  estate  from  which  Gaspard 
de  Vichy  derived  his  title  of  count,  was  situated 
on  the  northern  frontier  of  the  old  province  of  the 
Lyonnois,  in  what  is  now  the  department  of  Saone-et- 
Loire.  The  chateau  belonging  to  the  estate  exists  no 
longer,  but  Monsieur  de  Segur  has  published,  from 
manuscript  sources,  an  interesting  description  of  it 
dating  from  1735,  or  thirteen  years  before  Julie  de 
Lespinasse  took  up  her  abode  there.  Its  large  square 
tower,  its  moat  and  drawbridge,  indicated  the  troubled 
period  in  which  it  was  originally  built,  while  the  two 
great  terraces  facing  north  and  south  respectively,  the 
flower-garden,  the  aviary  and  the  park  with  its  wind- 
ing rivulet  and  long  alleys  of  hornbeam  are  suggestive 
of  later  and  more  peaceful  times,  and  of  such  scenes 
as  we  find  idealised  in  the  pictures  of  Watteau. 

In  surroundings  of  this  kind  were  passed  the  next 
four  years  of  Julie's  life.  The  duties  which  occupied 
her  were,  in  the  main,  those  of  governess  to  the 
children  of  Gaspard  and  Diane.  The  position  was 
not,  in  those  days,  one  of  much  dignity  or  importance, 
and  was,  in  fact,  not  widely  differentiated  from  that  of 
an  upper  servant.  The  modern  distinction  between 
a  gouvernante,  who  takes  general  charge  of  children, 
but  does  not  necessarily  teach  them,  and  the  institutrice 
or  instructress  proper,  was  sometimes,  as  we  learn  from 
a  passage  in  Madame  Roland's  memoirs,  theoretically 


12  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

recognised,  but  in  practice  we  find  the  two  constantly 
confounded,  and  the  one  office  was  scarcely  held  of 
more  account  than  the  other.  Setting  aside  royal  and 
semi-royal  households,  the  most  aristocratic  specimen 
of  a  private  governess  whom  I  can  remember  having 
come  across  in  the  memoirs  of  that  period  is  Mademoi- 
selle de  Mars,  the  organist's  daughter,  who  taught  the 
harpsichord  to  Felicite"  de  Saint-Aubyn,  afterwards 
Madame  de  Genlis,  and  read  novels  with  her  when 
their  history  book  proved  too  intolerably  dull  for  the 
taste  of  either — a  trait  which  recalls  Becky  Sharp  at 
Queen's  Crawley.  To  be  relegated  to  such  a  position, 
therefore,  might  well,  to  a  girl  brought  up  as  Julie  had 
been,  have  seemed  a  bitter  humiliation,  but  it  is  prob- 
able that  she  was  never  actually  governess  en  litre, 
and  from  a  playmate  grew  insensibly  into  a  teacher. 
Perhaps  it  was  from  motives  of  delicacy  that  her  sister 
and  brother-in-law  forbore,  as  it  is  pretty  certain  they 
did,  to  accentuate  the  change  by  any  offer  of  payment. 
In  the  spring  of  1748,  when  Julie  became  an  inmate 
at  Champrond,  the  family  circle  consisted  of  Gaspard 
himself,  his  wife,  and  two  sons,  aged  respectively  eight 
and  five,  and  in  the  month  of  May  of  that  same  year 
a  third  child,  a  girl,  was  born.  For  the  eldest  of  the 
three,  Abel,  an  amiable  boy,  who  grew  up  into  a 
worthy  and  kind-hearted  man,  Julie  had  a  strong  and 
entirely  sisterly  affection.  Their  friendship  continued 
unbroken  until  the  end  of  her  life,  and  she  always 
looked  back  upon  his  companionship  as  one  of  the  few 
cheerful  memories  associated  with  her  stay  at  Cham- 
prond. The  second  brother  was  of  a  less  lovable 
character,  and  indeed  turned  out  badly,  and  died,  not 
much  regretted,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven.  The 
little  girl  above-mentioned  survived  her  birth  for  some 


THE   HEROINE   AS  INSTRUCTRESS         13 

years,  but  did  not  live  to  grow  up.  That  the  relations 
of  all  three  with  their  aunt,  or  rather  their  elder  sister, 
were  of  the  pleasantest  kind  is  proved  by  the  anguish 
of  regret  with  which,  as  Madame  du  Deffand  declares, 
they  witnessed  her  departure  four  years  later.  We 
know  that  she  was  always  fond  of  children,  and  it  was 
only  natural  that,  in  her  loneliness  and  desolation,  she 
should  find  comfort  in  the  society  of  these  young 
brothers,  who  were  nearer  her  own  age  than  the 
mistress,  much  more  the  master,  of  the  house.  Their 
liveliness  and  caressing  ways  would  contrast  pleasantly 
with  the  cold  and  constrained  attitude  maintained 
towards  her  by  their  parents.  Her  complaints  of  the 
unhappiness  which  she  suffered  at  Champrond  never 
refer  to  what  the  ill-used  governess  of  Jane  Austen's 
and  Charlotte  Bronte's  days  was  wont  to  style  the 
"drudgery"  of  teaching.  Probably  she  was  too 
intelligent  to  make  it  a  drudgery  either  for  herself 
or  her  pupils. 

In  this  age,  when  the  number  and  nature  of  the 
items  which  should  be,  must  be,  or  can  be  included  in 
the  school  time-table  provides  an  eternal  theme  for 
discussion,  we  are  naturally  curious  to  know  what 
were  the  "subjects"  in  which  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse  instructed  her  young  relatives.  Latin  was 
then,  as  now,  "  a  necessary  part  of  every  gentleman's 
education."  Indeed,  if  we  may  judge  by  Monsieur 
d'Epinay's  naive  remark  that  his  son  must  learn  Latin 
but  need  not  understand  the  authors  he  reads  because 
"they  lead  to  nothing,"  the  attitude  of  the  French 
eighteenth-century  parent  towards  classical  instruction 
would  seem  to  have  borne  a  touching  resemblance  to 
that  of  the  British  paterfamilias  in  our  own  times. 
The  teaching  of  Latin  is  certainly  much  simplified 


14  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

if  we  start  on  both  sides  with  a  clear  understanding 
that  it  is  not  necessary  for  the  pupil  to  have  any  com- 
prehension of  what  he  reads  ;  but  even  under  these 
conditions  it  is  not  likely  that  Julie  would  have  been 
considered  equal  to  the  task.  Had  she  possessed  the 
slightest  smattering  of  classical  lore,  Guibert  in  his 
eulogium  written  after  her  death,  would  scarcely  have 
omitted  to  mention  so  extraordinary  a  circumstance. 
Frenchwomen  do  not  often  learn  Latin  now,  but  a 
Frenchwoman  who  did  so  then  was  considered  by 
herself  and  all  her  social  circle  a  marvel  and  a  portent 
indeed.  Madame  Roland  has  acquired  the  reputation 
of  a  knowledge  of  the  "learned  languages"  on  the 
score  of  some  intermittent  lessons  in  Latin  grammar 
bestowed  on  her  in  childhood  by  a  priest  uncle. 
Madame  de  Genlis,  though,  like  Miss  Edgeworth,  she 
affected  to  depreciate  the  study  of  classics,  is  equally 
careful  to  inform  the  world  of  an  equally  scrappy 
course  of  instruction  imparted  by  her  brother's  tutor. 
Madame  du  Chatelet,  the  "sublime  Emilie "  of 
Voltaire,  was  really  at  the  age  of  fifteen  capable  of 
construing  Virgil  with  more  or  less  correctness,  but 
then  Madame  du  Chatelet  was  the  wonder  of  her  day, 
the  typical  new  woman  whose  example  was  held  up  as 
an  awful  warning  to  any  misguided  girl  who  might 
show  a  tendency  to  become  savante. 

The  classical  part  of  the  young  de  Vichys'  education 
would,  therefore,  probably  he  confided  to  some  hanger- 
on,  of  the  secretary  or  almoner  order,  such  as  was 
nearly  always  to  be  found  in  the  houses  of  the 
nobility.  Considering  the  number  of  eminent  men 
who,  at  some  time  or  other  in  their  lives,  occupied 
a  position  of  this  sort,  it  might  be  supposed  that  the 
presence  of  such  inmates  would  contribute  to  the 


THE  HEROINE   AS   INSTRUCTRESS         15 

enlivenment  of  the  household  generally  and  detract 
from  the  deadly  dullness  of  life  in  a  remote  provincial 
chateau.  But  the  Marmontels,  Grimms,  and  Rous- 
seaus  were,  of  course,  the  rare  exceptions  amid  a 
crowd  of  fusionless  pedants  like  Linant,  the  semi- 
clerical  tutor  of  M.  d'Epinay's  son,  or  insolent 
upstarts  such  as  the  footman  promoted  to  be 
governor  to  the  young  Duke  of  Lauzun. 

In  modern  languages  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse 
was  certainly  better  versed.     About  twenty  years  later 
than  this  time,   she  writes  to  ask  her  friend,  David 
Hume  for  a  presentation  copy   of  his  history,   with 
a  view,    she   says,    to   improving  her   knowledge   of 
English  ;  and  an  Italian  poem  copied  in  her  own  hand 
has  been  found  among  her  posthumous  papers.     But 
we  should  be  judging  that  century  by  the  standard  of 
this  in  supposing  that  her  acquaintance  with  either  of 
these  tongues  dates  back  so  far  as  her  residence  at 
Champrond.     Even  for  the   daughters   of  the  most 
exalted    houses,    languages   formed   no   part   of   the 
educational  curriculum,  whether  at  school  or  at  home. 
So  late  as  the  sixties  Madame  de  Genlis,  who,  after- 
wards did  much  both  by  preaching  and  example,  to 
raise  the  linguistic  standard,  mentions  as  a  remarkable 
fact  that  one  lady  of  her  acquaintance  knew  English. 
She,   herself,   learnt  both  that  language  and   Italian 
(German   was   not   thought   of)   after   her   marriage. 
Madame  d'Epinay,  writing  in  1771,  marks  the  inaugu- 
ration of  the  new  era  by  observing  that  women  are  de- 
barred from  learning  Latin  and  Greek  by  their  "duties, 
occupations,  and  weakness,"  and  hence  restricted  to 
French,    English,   and   Italian  literature — the  conse- 
crated apportionment  which,  even  in  England,  retained 
its  force  down  to  the  end  of  the  early  Victorian  period. 


1 6  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

But  Madame  d'Epinay  herself,  so  far  as  I  am  aware, 
knew  no  English,  and  though  she  began  Italian  under 
the  tuition  of  a  masculine  admirer,  by  way  of  some 
consolation  for  her  husband's  neglect,  she  made  no 
great  progress  in  it.  Madame  Roland,  again,  whose 
girlhood  fell  in  the  last  half  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
was  supposed  to  know  some  English,  but  as  she  read 
all  her  authors  in  translations  it  would  not  appear 
that  her  reputation  was  in  this  respect  much  better 
founded  than  in  regard  to  her  classical  attainments. 
In  this  matter  of  languages  France,  as  Madame  de 
Genlis  remarks,  was  much  behind  England,  where 
many  families  kept  French  governesses,  whereas,  even 
towards  the  end  of  the  century,  it  was  regarded  as  a 
startling  innovation  to  employ  Englishwomen  to  teach 
French  children  colloquially. 

Arts  ctagrdment,  on  the  other  hand,  were  a  recog- 
nised factor  in  the  education  of  every  young  lady  and 
of  many  young  gentlemen  ;  even  girls  of  the  bourgeois 
class  were  taught  the  harpsichord,  singing,  and  above 
all  dancing,  as  a  matter  of  course,  either  at  their 
convent  schools  or  at  home  (drawing,  as  savouring 
of  masculinity  and  opening  up  a  vista  of  possible 
studies  from  the  nude,  was  less  in  favour).  When  the 
home  was  in  a  lonely  country-house  beyond  the  ken 
of  visiting  masters,  resort  was  sometimes  had  to 
resident  teachers  of  music  and  dancing.  Thus 
Felicite  de  Saint-Aubyn,  besides  the  instructions  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Mars,  had  for  some  time  the  benefit 
of  daily  tuition  from  a  professional  dancer  of  inebriate 
tendencies  retained  by  her  parents  in  their  chateau. 
We  do  not  know  whether  that  care  for  her  daughter's 
education  which,  according  to  Guibert,  distinguished 
Madame  d'Albon  was  carried  to  this  extent.  In  any 


THE   HEROINE   AS  INSTRUCTRESS         17 

case,  the  seed  could  not  have  fallen  on  exceed- 
ingly fertile  soil,  for  Julie  was  not  apparently,  in  the 
technical  sense  of  the  word,  "accomplished."  Later 
in  life  she  showed  a  strong  and  intelligent  interest  in 
music,  especially  opera,  but  we  do  not  hear  that  she 
herself  either  played  or  sang.  It  would  be  more 
strange  if  she  had  not  learned  to  dance,  for  the 
dancing-master  was  the  autocrat  of  the  century,  and 
society  was  quite  ready  to  endorse  his  opinion  of  his 
own  art  as  by  far  the  most  important  element  in  a 
liberal  education.  But  at  the  height  of  her  social 
success  in  Paris  we  do  not  know  that  she  was  ever  so 
much  of  a  ball-goer  as  that  other  mistress  of  a  literary 
salon,  Madame  Necker,  who  danced,  says  Marmontel, 
badly,  but  with  great  spirit.  On  the  whole,  it  does 
not  seem  likely  that  she  imparted  "accomplishments" 
to  the  youthful  de  Vichys. 

In  our  endeavour  to  reconstruct  the  schoolroom 
studies  at  Champrond,  we  are  thus  thrown  back  upon 
the  three  royal  R.'s,  which  were  then  regarded  with 
less  familiarity  and  more  respect  than  is  consistent 
with  modern  habits  of  thought.  We  do  not,  for 
example,  consider  it  as  a  great  achievement  for  either 
a  lady  or  a  gentleman  to  be  able  to  read  aloud  correctly 
and  distinctly,  yet  it  is  said  that  there  were  not  above 
fifty  persons  in  Paris  who  could  do  it,  and  the  Due 
de  Lauzun  assures  us  that  to  the  possession  of  this 
exceedingly  rare  accomplishment,  acquired  from  his 
footman  -  tutor,  he  partly  owed  his  favour  with 
Madame  de  Pompadour.  In  this  branch  of  educa- 
tion, Julie  de  Lespinasse  was  certainly  a  qualified 
instructor,  as  we  know  that  her  reading  afterwards 
found  rather  too  much  favour  with  the  fastidious 
Madame  du  Deffand,  who  sometimes  insisted  that  it 


1 8  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

should  go  on  all  night.  Writing  stood  on  a  still 
higher  level.  The  nun  who  held  the  proud  position 
of  writing-mistress  at  the  convent  frequented  by 
Madame  Roland  in  her  girlhood  considered  herself 
particularly  well  educated  because  she  "wrote  a 
beautiful  hand,  embroidered  superbly,  taught  ortho- 
graphy well,  and  was  not  unacquainted  with  history  !  " 
The  writing  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  if  not 
good,  is  at  least  legible  and  cultivated,  and  her 
orthography  conforms  to  the  arbitrary  rules  of 
grammarians  rather  than  to  her  own  sense  of  the 
fit  and  beautiful,  which  is  by  no  means  always  the 
case  with  the  ladies  of  her  time.  Madame  de  Genlis, 
with  neither  surprise  nor  dismay,  records  that  her 
brother's  wife,  a  girl  of  the  highest  birth  and  most 
eminent  piety  (equally  eligible,  in  fact,  as  regards  both 
gear  and  grace),  never  learned  to  spell  till  after  her 
marriage.  With  arithmetic  Julie  at  some  time  of 
her  life  certainly  gained  a  sufficient  acquaintance 
to  keep  her  yearly  expenditure  within  her  yearly 
income — the  most  useful  purpose,  perhaps,  which  that 
science  can,  for  most  of  us,  be  made  to  serve. 

Geography  was  even  less  a  matter  of  course  than 
spelling.  Madame  de  Genlis  herself,  la  fee  de  la 
pddanterie,  was  unacquainted  with  it  till  long  after 
she  was  grown  up,  and  so  was  her  mistress,  the 
Duchess  of  Orleans.  Both  had  a  course  of  lessons 
from  a  jeune  personne  tres  instruite,  and  felt  that  they 
were  doing  great  things.  History,  in  the  shape  of 
some  such  colourless  abridgement  as  that  which 
drove  Mademoiselle  de  Mars  and  her  pupil  to  the 
pages  of  fiction,  may  have  been  studied  at  Cham- 
prond,  and  anecdotes  of  elevating  character  and 
rather  doubtful  authenticity,  such  as  those  of  Regulus 


THE   HEROINE  AS  INSTRUCTRESS          19 

or  of  Alexander  and  the  physician  Philip,  would  be 
impressed  upon  the  minds  of  the  pupils,  and  by  them, 
perhaps,  retailed  for  the  benefit  of  their  admiring 
elders.  The  claims  of  literature  would  be  acknow- 
ledged by  committing  to  memory  some  fable  of  La 
Fontaine,  or  perchance  some  tirade  of  Racine,  and 
these  also  we  can  imagine  the  children  repeating 
amid  the  applause  of  an  adult  audience.  Yet  this 
stimulus  may  after  all  have  been  wanting,  for  the 
fashion  of  subjecting  children  to  informal  examina- 
tions for  the  entertainment  (?)  of  their  parents'  friends, 
though  almost  universal  by  the  end  of  the  century, 
had  scarcely  as  yet  superseded  the  older  fashion  of 
ignoring  them  altogether.  The  catechism,  too,  which 
was  taught  in  most  families  by  a  waiting-maid,  in 
some  by  the  governess,  rarely  indeed  by  the  mother, 
may  well  have  been  undertaken  by  Julie.  The  future 
"sceur  Lespinasse,"  of  the  Encyclopaedic  Church, 
teaching  her  scholars  to  enumerate  the  nine  orders 
of  spirits  who  make  up  the  celestial  hierarchy,  is  a 
piquant  spectacle  for  the  imagination. 

It  was  for  "the  care  bestowed  upon  the  education 
of  her  daughter,"  however,  that  Madame  de  Vichy 
professed  herself  especially  grateful  to  the  young 
instructress.  As  the  said  daughter  was  only  four 
years  old  when  Julie  left  Champrond  her  duties  must 
in  this  instance  have  been  rather  those  of  a  nurse 
than  of  a  governess.  For  the  first  year  of  its 
existence,  nevertheless,  the  poor  little  creature  would, 
in  the  common  course  of  things,  be  handed  over 
almost  unconditionally  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a 
foster-mother.  Even  in  those  exceptional  cases  where 
a  child  was  not  exiled  to  the  nurse's  cottage,  it  was 
not  usual  for  the  mother  to  attempt  any  unladylike 


2®  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

interference  with  her  methods.  The  infancy  of 
Madame  de  Genlis  was  passed  under  her  parents'  roof, 
but  her  mother  neither  knew,  nor  cared  to  know,  that 
the  woman  upon  whom  she  devolved  her  own  responsi- 
bilities was  physically  incapable  of  fulfilling  them, 
and  that  the  luckless  baby  was  in  consequence 
reared  upon  "  miaulee  " — i.e.  rye  bread  passed 
through  a  sieve  and  moistened  with  wine  and  water. 
In  the  houses  of  the  women  themselves  such 
deceptions  were  even  more  certain  to  escape 
unnoticed,  and  deaths  amongst  children  "at  nurse" 
were,  accordingly,  of  frequent  occurrence.  Madame 
Roland  lost  six  infant  brothers  and  sisters,  and  herself 
only  survived  because,  contrary  to  the  usual  custom 
of  her  parents,  some  attention  was  bestowed  upon 
the  selection  and  supervision  of  the  woman  to  whose 
charge  she  was  committed. 

The  starvation  thus  begun  in  infancy,  was,  it  is 
to  be  feared,  often  continued  throughout  childhood. 
The  Due  de  Lauzun  in  his  memoirs  tranquilly 
remarks  :  "  Like  all  children  of  my  age  and  rank,  I 
had  the  prettiest  possible  clothes  for  going  out,  but 
at  home  I  was  naked  and  dying  of  hunger."  This, 
he  adds,  was  from  carelessness,  not  cruelty.  The 
distinction  between  cruelty  and  such  carelessness  is 
rather  too  subtle  for  ordinary  minds,  but  in  some 
families  the  starvation  was  on  principle.  Rousseau 
solemnly  declares  that  the  grandson  of  the  Marechal 
de  Luxembourg  was  slowly  starved  to  death  in 
accordance  with  the  atrocious  regimen  of  the  fashion- 
able physician  Bordeu.  It  was  heartrending,  he 
says  with  genuine  feeling,  to  see  this  heir  of  a  wealthy 
family  eagerly  devouring  a  piece  of  dry  bread,  when 
he  could  get  it.  The  Due  de  Richelieu's  son,  de 


THE   HEROINE   AS  INSTRUCTRESS         21 

Fronsac,  fared  better  than  this.  He  might  have  as 
much  dry  bread  as  he  liked  for  his  goilter,  or  after- 
noon repast,  but  the  supplement  of  cherries  was 
strictly  forbidden.  Madame  de  Genlis,  in  her  book 
on  education,  allows  her  imaginary  pupil,  Adele, 
nothing  but  dry  bread  or  fruit  for  her  gofiter,  and 
then,  in  serene  unconsciousness  that  she  is  demonstra- 
ting the  complete  failure  of  her  system,  frankly  relates 
how  Adele,  for  once  permitted  to  eat  what  she  liked, 
straightway  made  herself  sick  by  consuming  "ten 
tartlets,  six  meringues,  and  two  cups  of  ice-cream," 
an  achievement  at  which  the  children  of  these 
degenerate  days  might  well  gasp  in  admiration. 
Where  underfeeding  is,  there  may  greediness  almost 
invariably  be  found. 

Starvation  or  semi-starvation  was  not  the  only  evil  by 
which  the  eighteenth-century  child  was  from  its  cradle 
beset.  Swaddling  was  then  the  fate  of  all  French 
babies,  and  this  custom  was  of  singular  comfort  to  the 
nurse,  by  enabling  her  to  disembarrass  herself  of  her 
charge  when  she  felt  disinclined  to  attend  to  it.  Rous- 
seau has  seldom  employed  his  fervid  eloquence  to 
better  purpose  than  in  the  indignant  passage  which 
describes  the  poor,  helpless  mummy  of  a  baby  hung 
on  a  nail  to  keep  it  out  of  the  way,  unable  to  move, 
unable  to  cry,  purple-faced,  suffocated,  "crucified."1 
Our  national  conceit  is  gratified  by  his  remark  that 
England  was,  in  this  respect,  far  more  civilised  than 
France.  But  the  awful  corps  de  baleine,  which  for  girls 
succeeded  to  the  swaddling  clothes,  and  from  which 

1  Judging  from  a  picture,  " Au  Clou"  which  appeared  in  the  Salon,  at 
Paris,  some  twenty  years  ago,  this  atrocious  practice  has  not  yet  disap- 
peared, though  the  children  of  the  peasantry  are  now  the  only  sufferers 
from  it. 


12  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

there  was  no  escape  till  death,  was,  he  assures  us,  even 
more  a  British  than  a  French  institution.  In  both 
countries  there  brooded  over  the  minds  of  parents  a 
constant  terror  of  deformity  for  their  children,  especially 
their  daughters,  a  terror  unknown  to,  inconceivable  by, 
the  generation  which  writes  letters  to  the  daily  papers 
lamenting  the  deterioration  of  the  race.  Swaddling 
in  one  country  and  tight  lacing  in  both  were  the  means 
employed  to  counteract  this  terror,  and  with  such  ex- 
cellent results  that  amongst  the  girls  who  survived  the 
treatment  a  "  crooked  figure"  (a  term  nowjalmost 
meaningless  for  us)  seems  to  have  been  nearly  as 
common  as  a  smallpox-pitted  face.1  Remembering 
how  Madame  de  Sevigne  commends  herself  for  the 
trouble  she  takes  to  improve  her  infant  grand- 
daughter's figure  (a  phrase  which  makes  us  shudder 
when  we  reflect  what  it  implies),  we  are  tempted  to 
inquire  whether  "  the  care  bestowed  upon  the  educa- 
tion "  of  Mademoiselle  de  Vichy  extended  to  details  of 
this  kind.  It  is,  unhappily,  not  impossible.  In  later 
years,  Julie  de  Lespinasse  was,  for  good  and  for  evil,  an 
ardent  admirer  of  Rousseau,  but  at  this  date  "  Emile  " 
was  still  unwritten,  and  swaddling  bands  and  tight 
stays  were  accepted  almost  without  question,  as  matters 
of  necessity.2 

Even  apart  from  tight-lacing,  the  clothing  of  girls 
up  to  the  two  last  decades  of  the  century  was  not 

1  The  memoir  writers  and  essayists  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries,  both  French  and  English,  constantly  allude,  in  the  most  matter- 
of-fact  manner,  to  women  afflicted  with  deformity — including  ladies  of  the 
highest  rank,  from  royalty  downwards. 

2  From  the  enumeration  of  her  wardrobe  it  appears  that,  at  the  time 
of  her  death,  she  possessed  fourteen  pairs  of  stays  made  of  dimity,  and 
seemingly  innocent  of  steel  and  whalebone.     This  style  of  corset  dates 
from  about  the  year  1770,  and  the  invention  was  due  to  the  influence  of 
Rousseau. 


GIRL  AND   BOY   OF   THE    PERIOD 
(MADEMOISELLE   DE   BETHISY   ET   SON    FRERE) 

FROM    A    PAINTING   BY   A.    S.    BELLE    IN    THE   MUSEE    DH   VERSAILLES 


THE  HEROINE   AS  INSTRUCTRESS         23 

such  as  tends  to  a  high  physical  standard.  The  poor 
little  wretches  were  dressed  exactly  like  miniatures  of 
their  mothers — trains,  panzers,  high-heeled  shoes  and 
all.  Even  their  very  aprons  (pitiful  approximation  to 
that  admirable  institution  the  pinafore)  were  hollow 
mockeries  of  transparent  tulle  embroidered  with  flowers, 
and  quite  as  perishable  as  the  silk  frocks  they  were 
supposed  to  protect.  For  the  credit  of  human  nature 
we  must  hope  that  for  everyday  life  in  the  country  a 
compromise  was  sometimes  adopted,  such,  for  example, 
as  the  habit  de  Savoyarde  mentioned  by  Madame  de 
Genlis,  which,  though  far  too  much  ornamented  for 
comfort,  had  the  grand  merit  of  clearing  the  ground. 
Old  and  shabby  dresses  would  also  be  worn  out  in  the 
peaceful  seclusion  of  a  rural  home,  and  we  all  know 
that  old  clothes,  whatever  the  wickedness  of  their 
original  nature,  do  not  involve  the  misery  inseparable 
from  new  ones.  But,  whenever  the  children  were  on 
view,  full  dress  was  de  rigueur.  Madame  de  Genlis 
has  described  with  equal  humour  and  sympathy  the  ex- 
periences of  a  girl  dressed  for  a  children's  ball,  with  pow- 
dered hair  built  high  over  an  enormous  pad,  feathers 
two  feet  in  length,  stays  tightened  to  suffocating  point, 
and  a  panler  of  steel  and  horsehair  so  heavy  as  to 
make  dancing  a  difficult  achievement,  and  set  on  her 
way  with  the  parting  injunction,  "Take  care  you  don't 
smudge  your  rouge,  or  toss  your  hair,  or  crumple  your 
frock,  and  be  sure  you  enjoy  yourself." 

It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  girls  so 
dressed,  for  there  was  no  essential  difference  between 
the  costume  de  promenade  and  the  costume  de  bal> 
should  accomplish  much  in  the  way  of  outdoor  exercise. 
But  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  boys,  who,  though  they 
wore  their  petticoats  much  longer  (in  both  senses  of 


24  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

the  word),  than  is  now  usual,  did  ultimately  get  rid  of 
them,  do  not  appear  to  have  been  in  this  matter  con- 
spicuously superior  to  the  girls.  The  ancient  game  of 
barres — i.e.  prisoners'  base — was,  certainly,  even  in 
this  century,  an  institution  at  some  schools,  but  we 
learn  from  Rousseau,  who  much  deplores  the  circum- 
stance, that  the  manly  sports  of  tennis,  mall  and  foot- 
ball were  considered  too  severe  for  boys,  and  that  they 
were  thus  in  general,  like  girls,  thrown  back  upon  the 
ever  popular  volant.  Nor  was  shuttlecock  the  only 
recreation  common  to  the  youth  of  both  sexes.  One 
of  Lancret's  pictures  represents  a  group  of  girls  and 
boys,  the  girls  with  their  long  skirts  deftly  tucked  up, 
playing  le  jeu  des  quatre  coins  (Anglice,  Puss  in  the 
corner) ;  and  the  evergreen  blindman's  buff  and  other 
like  diversions  which  the  modern  British  boy  learns, 
from  his  preparatory  school  onwards,  to  despise  as 
childish,  were  scarcely  considered  derogatory  even  by 
youths  in  their  teens.  They  were  also  much  in  vogue 
at  convent  schools,  and  consequently  the  girls  there 
educated  were,  says  Jean- Jacques,  far  healthier  than 
those  brought  up  at  home,  where  jumping,  running, 
and  shouting  were  generally  barred. 

In  the  face  of  this  community  between  the  sexes 
in  the  matter  of  recreation  we  are  naturally  chary  of 
accepting  Rousseau's  dogmatic  assertion  that,  in  his 
time,  the  distinction  between  the  eternal  feminine  and 
the  equally  eternal  masculine  displayed  itself  from  the 
cradle  in  the  voluntary  adoption  of  toys  of  different 
species — dolls  for  girls,  for  boys  the  much  wider  field 
covered  by  drums,  tops,  and  miniature  carriages. 
Such  of  us  as  prefer  the  use  of  our  eyes  to  any  train 
of  a  priori  reasoning  are  aware  that  the  girl  baby  of 
our  own  days  is  by  no  means  averse  to  appropriating 


THE   HEROINE   AS  INSTRUCTRESS         25 

her  brother's  playthings,  and  that  till  the  rigid  con- 
ventionalities of  scholastic  tradition  have  cast  their 
blighting  influence  on  his  ingenuous  nature,  her  action 
in  this  respect  is  by  him  fully  reciprocated.  Doubt- 
less the  same  law  prevailed,  perhaps  to  an  even  wider 
extent,  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Those  high-com- 
plexioned  wooden  dolls  must  often  have  enjoyed  the 
(perhaps  doubtful)  benefit  of  masculine  nursing,  and 
the  "horses"  who  drew  those  little  carriages  would 
sometimes  be  of  the  less  worthy  gender.  For  this 
last  inference,  indeed,  we  have  the  testimony  of  a 
picture  by  Coypel  referred  to  in  "  La  Femme  au 
XVII Ime  siecle." 

When  the  boy  grew  to  manhood,  however,  he 
could,  if  so  disposed,  turn  his  attention  to  the  afore- 
mentioned pursuits  of  football,  mall,  and  tennis,  all  of 
which  were  denied  to  the  girl.  We  certainly  hear  at 
a  somewhat  later  date  of  professional  female  tennis 
players  in  Paris,  but  their  way  of  life  was  scarcely 
such  as  to  confer  respectability  upon  this  innovation. 
Riding,  again,  was  more  or  less  a  necessary  accom- 
plishment for  gentlemen,  but  it  did  not  become  the 
fashion  for  ladies  till  much  nearer  the  end  of  the 
century.  A  few  women  of  the  higher  class  rode  and 
even  hunted — some,  like  Madame  de  Genlis,  from 
genuine  love  of  the  exercise,  and  some  because  in 
very  aristocratic  circles  it  was  the  correct  thing  to 
do ;  and  when  we  consider  the  side  saddle  and  riding 
habit  of  the  period  we  are  forced  to  the  conclusion 
that  either  they  must  have  been  extraordinarily 
courageous,  or,  what  is  more  probable,  that  la  chasse 
was  in  point  of  difficulty  a  very  different  affair  from 
modern  fox-hunting.  We  have  no  evidence  that 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  was  a  horsewoman,  but 


26  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

in  those  days  of  exceedingly  bad  roads  it  may  some- 
times have  happened  that,  like  most  dwellers  in  the 
country,  she  was  obliged  to  ride,  in  Hibernian  phrase, 
whether  she  could  or  not.  We  remember  the  artless 
comment  of  Madame  de  Staal  when  compelled  to 
travel  upon  horseback  :  "If  I  had  been  required  to 
mount  a  dromedary,  I  could  not  have  been  more 
terrified,"  and  her  frank  confession  that  her  seat  in 
the  saddle  was  "  rather  that  of  a  bundle  than  a  human 
being." 

Shooting  as  a  feminine  pursuit  was,  like  hunting, 
not  altogether  unknown.  Curiously  enough,  it  was 
the  favourite  recreation  of  that  most  gentle  and 
womanly  of  women,  Mademoiselle  Aisse  during  her 
visits  to  the  country,  though  we  hear  that  a  certain 
gamekeeper  made  objections.  It  is  not  likely  that 
Julie  followed  her  example.  So  far  as  outdoor  amuse- 
ments are  concerned,  she  was  probably  in  no  way 
above  the  ordinary  level  of  her  contemporaries.  One 
country  pleasure,  however — bathing — she  must  almost 
certainly  have  enjoyed,  for  it  seems  to  have  been  the 
fashion  with  Frenchwomen  during  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries  to  bathe  whenever  they  had 
a  river  at  hand.  The  letters  and  memoirs  of  the 
period  are  full  of  references  to  this  practice,  and 
painters  frequently  show  us  groups  of  ladies  playing 
about  in  some  river  much  as  girls  do  now  at  the  sea- 
side. The  dress  in  which  they  are  represented  differs 
certainly  from  the  modern  bathing-costume,  being 
sometimes  a  chemise  and  sometimes  considerably  less, 
though  in  such  details  French  artists,  then  as  now, 
probably  drew  on  their  imagination.  But  though 
bathing  was  fashionable  it  did  not  involve  a  know- 
ledge of  swimming.  Rousseau  caustically  remarks 


THE   HEROINE   AS  INSTRUCTRESS         27 

that  this  art  could  be  learned  for  nothing,  and  was  not 
therefore  deemed  worthy  to  be  included  in  the  educa- 
tion of  a  gentleman.  Scarcely  any  boys  of  the  better 
class,  he  says,  were  taught  to  swim.  It  is  a  safe 
inference  that  the  same  rule  applied  a  fortiori  to  girls. 
But  the  whole  question  of  country  occupations  and 
amusements  requires  to  be  treated  more  at  large,  and 
will  be  fully  dealt  with  in  the  ensuing  chapter. 


CHAPTER   III 

FRENCH    COUNTRY   LIFE    IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY 


1  HE  landed  aristocracy  of  eighteenth-century 
A  France  fall  readily  into  two  main  divisions  —  the 
families  who,  from  want  of  means,  were  compelled  to 
live  all  the  year  round  in  the  country,  and  those  who 
practically  spent  their  lives  in  Paris  or  its  immediate 
neighbourhood  and  regarded  their  estates  as  places 
of  exile  in  which,  from  motives  of  economy,  it  was 
necessary  to  pass  a  few  weeks  or  months  annually. 
That  the  country  might,  for  its  own  sake,  be  prefer- 
able to  the  town  was  scarcely  an  idea  seriously  enter- 
tained by  either  class  before  Rousseau  had  made  it 
the  fashion  ;  and,  in  the  picturesque  language  of  the 
brothers  Goncourt,  "the  century  was  then  very  old." 
When  Julie  de  Lespinasse  lived  at  Champrond  the 
preference  for  the  "city  square"  was  so  open  and 
unabashed  that  those  who  could  not  afford  a  migra- 
tion to  Paris  often  spent  the  winter  at  the  nearest 
large  provincial  town.  We  shall  perhaps  find  that 
this  frankly  Philistinish  attitude  admits  of  some  excuse 
if  we  endeavour  to  realise  what  was  then  meant  by 
country  life  in  France.  The  Parisian  "smart  set," 
of  whom  something  will  be  said  in  a  subsequent 
chapter,  simply  continued  their  ordinary  routine  of 
amusements  so  far  as  the  altered  conditions  would 
admit,  but  the  case  was  very  different  with  the  stay- 
at-home  class,  in  which  Gaspard  de  Vichy  may  be 
reckoned.  He  certainly  paid  an  occasional  visit  to 

28 


FRENCH   COUNTRY   LIFE  29 

Paris,  with  a  view  to  keeping  in  touch  with  his  sister, 
Madame  du  Deffand,  who  had  a  little  money  to  leave 
and  no  child  to  inherit  it,  but  on  these  occasions  his 
household,  with  the  exception  of  Madame  de  Vichy, 
remained  behind  in  the  peaceful — and  economical — 
seclusion  of  Champrond. 

The  monotonous  dullness  of  that  seclusion  may 
be  easily  imagined  if  we  bear  in  mind  that  the  one 
ambition  of  all  men  and  women  possessing  any 
abilities  above  the  average  was,  by  hook  or  by  crook, 
to  make  their  way,  as  Julie  herself  later  did,  to  Paris.1 
Those  who  were  left  would  be  more  or  less  the  social 
and  intellectual  failures.  To  this  basic  fact  we  must 
add  the  insufferable  pettiness  produced  by  living  in 
the  narrowest  possible  of  grooves,  and  moreover  the 
difficulty  of  holding  communication  even  with  such 
neighbours  as  there  were.  True,  this  very  difficulty 
lent  a  certain  air  of  geniality  to  social  intercourse  in 
the  provinces.  We  often  read  of  surprise  visits  paid 
to  distant  chateaux,  of  unskilled  riders  taking,  like 
Madame  de  Staal,  their  lives  in  their  hands  in  order 
to  traverse  roads  impassable  by  wheels,  of  large  parties 
arriving  uninvited  in  confident  expectation  of  the  hos- 
pitality never  denied,  though  sometimes,  necessarily, 
of  the  most  impromptu  kind.  It  sounds  idyllic,  but 
some  of  us  perhaps  know  by  experience  that  it  is 
quite  as  possible  to  be  bored  over  the  most  scram- 
bling picnic  as  over  an  elaborate  dinner-party,  and 
that  an  uncongenial  acquaintance  is  not  rendered 
more  attractive  by  being  compulsorily  converted  into 
a  room-mate.  As  a  certain  set-off  we  must  reckon 

"  I  hope  for  your  sake  and  your  wife's  that  you  will  not  spend  this 
winter  in  the  country,"  writes  Julie,  many  years  later,  to  Abel  de  Vichy. 
"  The  evenings  are  very  long  there." 


30  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

the  more  frequent  opportunities  afforded  by  an  un- 
sophisticated country  district  of  encountering  curious, 
and  sometimes  ludicrous,  characters.  Such  was  that 
modern  Bluebeard,  the  bete  noire  of  Felicite  de  Saint- 
Aubyn's  childhood,  who  enticed  numbers  of  workgirls 
to  his  house  and  there  secretly  murdered  them  ;  such 
the  crotchety  old  lady  who  would  not  have  her  fish- 
ponds drained,  and  flooded  out  the  neighbours  in 
consequence ;  and  such,  though  belonging  to  an 
earlier  generation,  that  eccentric  Mademoiselle  du 
Plessis,  who  enlivened  the  solitude  of  Madame  de 
Sevigne.  But  few  of  us  are  sufficiently  cynical  to 
enjoy  always  laughing  at  our  company,  and  our 
interest  in  human  nature  is  seldom  so  strong  that 
we  prefer  originality  to  good  breeding  in  these  with 
whom  we  are  obliged  to  associate. 

The  general  impression  which  we  receive  of  pro- 
vincial society  as  reflected  in  the  writings  of  those 
endowed  with  sufficient  ability  to  describe  it  is  one 
of  intense  dreariness.  Imagine  the  tedium  of  three 
successive  hours  spent  at  table,  and  that,  too,  during 
that  most  unsociable  period  of  the  day  which  synchro- 
nises roughly  with  the  modern  luncheon  hour  !  Like 
Mr  Smith,  in  "  Evelina,"  one  inquires  what  hosts  and 
guests  could  have  found  to  say  to  one  another,  and 
the  answer  is  not  readily  forthcoming.  Even  at  a 
much  later  date,  Arthur  Young  was  astonished  by 
the  scarcity  of  newspapers  in  French  country  districts, 
and  the  extraordinary  ignorance  and  apathy  displayed 
by  the  inhabitants  with  regard  to  public  events.  Books 
of  one  sort  or  other  were  not  uncommon  as  a  part  of 
the  furniture  of  country  houses,  but  we  may  safely 
assume  that  the  average  provincial  gentleman's  library 
was  not  constantly  recruited  with  supplies  of  modern 


FRENCH   COUNTRY   LIFE  31 

literature.  The  expedient  of  discussing  the  latest 
novel  (for  the  latest  novel  was  even  then  an  in- 
stitution) would  be  impossible  with  ladies  who  had 
not  yet  advanced  beyond  the  interminable  romances 
fashionable  with  an  earlier  generation.  Sport  of 
some  kind  or  other  the  country  certainly  did  afford, 
though  this  topic  of  conversation  would  mainly  be 
limited  to  the  masculine  part  of  the  company,  but  the 
various  duties  of  landlordism,  the  grand  juries, 
quarter  sessions,  vestries  and  so  on,  which  formed 
the  serious  occupation  of  the  English  squire,  were, 
for  reasons  presently  to  be  explained,  almost  non- 
existent for  his  French  contemporary  ;  and  to  the 
honour  of  this  last-named  be  it  said  that  hard  drink- 
ing, the  English  squire's  usual  recreation,  never  found 
much  favour  in  his  eyes.  There  would  be  nothing 
left  for  it  but  to  talk  gossip,  a  resource  which,  what- 
ever superior  people  may  say,  is  by  no  means  to 
be  despised.  The  brilliant  conversationalists  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  such  as  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  never 
certainly  fell  into  the  mistake  of  despising  it,  but 
the  gossip  of  a  scattered  rural  neighbourhood,  con- 
sisting as  it  mainly  does  of  spiteful  hearsays  about 
people  in  a  higher  social  position  than  the  gossipers, 
is  a  depressing  thing  at  best,  and  only  welcome  as 
a  diversion  from  perpetual  discussion  of  the  weather. 

The  longest  dinner,  however,  must  come  to  an  end 
in  time,  and  card-playing  was  then  the  order  of  the 
day.  We  should  have  expected  this  to  be  hailed  as 
a  relief  from  conversation  under  conditions  such  as 
those  just  indicated,  but  Parisians  complained  bitterly 
of  the  hours  compulsorily  devoted  to  old-fashioned 
games  like  Loto  (discredited,  it  seems,  in  up-to-date 
circles)  with  the  accompaniment  of  perpetual  quarrelling 


32  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

over  losses  amounting  to  a  few  halfpence.  In  such 
pursuits  the  day  wore  on,  for  in  that  hospitable 
age  visits  were  something  like  visits,  and  just  as  the 
modern  "  week-end "  was  represented  by  a  stay  of 
at  least  a  month,  so  the  afternoon  call  of  the  period 
began  before  the  twelve-o'clock  dinner  and  lasted  till 
after  supper.  The  proceedings  would  sometimes  be 
varied  by  a  "promenade,"  but  as  it  was  usual  for  both 
ladies  and  gentlemen  to  be  dressed  en  grande  tenue 
for  their  midday  dinner,  a  custom  by  which,  as  Arthur 
Young  acutely  observes,  the  rest  of  the  day  was 
spoilt  for  outdoor  exercise,  this  must  generally  have 
been  limited  to  a  stroll  round  the  grounds,  or  perhaps 
a  short  drive.  To  English  imaginations  an  additional 
horror  is  added  to  the  picture  by  the  absence  of  that 
blessed  cup  of  tea  which  makes  even  boredom  more 
endurable;  the  "five  o'clock"  being  represented  by 
a  light  gouter,  which  the  prolonged  dinner  must,  on 
gala  days,  have  rendered  an  irksome  superfluity.1 

It  was  probably  among  the  duties  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  to  assist  Madame  de  Vichy  in  enter- 
taining her  guests  on  occasions  of  this  kind,  and  in 
such  experiments  on  vile  bodies  she  perhaps  laid  the 
foundation  for  the  marvellous  social  successes  of  her 
after  years.  Her  young  charges  would  also  be  present, 
at  least  at  dinner.  For  supper,  which  was  seldom 
earlier  than  nine  o'clock,  the  children  sometimes  sat 
up,  and  sometimes  were  served  in  their  bedrooms. 
Breakfast  then,  as  now,  was  an  informal  repast 2  of 
coffee  or  chocolate,  these  beverages  having  by  this  time 

1  Coffee  immediately  after  dinner  was,  however,  already  an  institution. 

2  Sometimes   tea,  as   English  fashions  came  into  vogue.     In  country 
houses  the  family  did  sometimes  meet  for  this  meal,  at  the  curious  hour 
of  nine  A.M. 


FRENCH   COUNTRY   LIFE  33 

established  their  place  amongst  all  the  well-to-do 
classes.  The  reign  of  Rousseau  and  sensibility  was  not 
yet,  and  children  were  still  required  to  tremble,  generally 
with  excellent  reason,  in  the  presence  of  their  parents, 
and,  theoretically  at  least,  to  be  seen  rather  than  heard 
by  visitors.  It  is  refreshing  to  know  that  there  were 
exceptions  to  this  rule.  In  fact,  we  are  repeatedly 
coming  across  instances  of  what,  even  to  modern 
ideas,  would  appear  excessive  indulgence.  As  an 
example  we  may  take  the  five-year-old  boy  who,  when 
Madame  de  Genlis  was  visiting  his  parents,  insisted 
on  having  her  new  hat,  an  exceptionally  smart  one, 
for  a  plaything,  his  fond  mother  only  stipulating  that 
he  should  ask  for  it  nicely  and  do  it  no  harm  \  It  is 
unnecessary  to  state  that  the  hat  could  never  be  worn 
again. 

It  is  not  likely  that  the  children  of  Gaspard  de 
Vichy,  whose  stern  and  imperious  temper  inspired 
even  his  wife  with  awe,  were  allowed  to  have  much 
of  their  own  way,  so  long  at  least  as  he  was  upon  the 
scene.  But  the  winter  of  1849  was  spent  by  him  and 
Diane  in  Paris,  while  Julie  remained  at  Champrond, 
in  charge  of  her  nephews  and  niece.  One  surmises 
that,  to  her  as  well  as  to  them,  the  occasion  must 
have  been  something  of  a  holiday ;  but  that  she 
managed  to  restrain  the  exuberance  of  her  young 
pupils  within  some  kind  of  reasonable  limits,  while 
still  retaining  their  sympathy,  is  plain  from  the  appro- 
bation with  which  she  was  at  this  time  regarded  both 
by  parents  and  children.  As  she  herself  expressly 
says  that  she  knew  nothing  of  housekeeping  till  she 
lived  in  her  own  rooms  in  Paris,  it  is  evident  that  she 
was  not  required  to  occupy  herself  in  addition  with 
domestic  concerns,  which  would  doubtless  be  left  in 


34  A   STAR    OF   THE  SALONS 

the  hands  of  some  functionary  of  the  majordomo 
order.  But  to  the  difficult  task  of  getting  on  with 
other  people's  servants  she  must  even  then  have 
brought  that  admirable  tact  and  consideration  which 
in  time  to  come  caused  her  to  be  regarded  rather  as  a 
protector  than  a  rival  by  the  long-established,  highly 
favoured  femme-de-chambre  of  Madame  du  Deffand. 
That  this  girl  of  seventeen  could,  in  that  profligate 
age,  be  safely  left  for  some  months  to  her  own  devices 
is,  we  may  also  remark,  a  fact  which  lends  little 
countenance  to  the  suspicions  attached  in  after  years 
to  her  name.  Had  her  mind  run  upon  lovers  she 
would  probably  have  found  even  a  country  neighbour- 
hood capable  of  providing  some  sort  of  specimen  of 
that  genus — such,  for  example,  as  the  doctor's  son  who 
secretly  courted  Felicite  de  Saint- Aubyn  and  was  by 
her  contemned  on  account  of  his  inferior  social  position. 
Remembering  that  passionate  enthusiasm  for  social 
reform  which  afterwards  formed  so  close  a  bond  be- 
tween Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  and  the  philan- 
thropic Turgot,  we  are  tempted  to  inquire  whether  it 
may  have  been  in  the  first  instance  inspired  by 
her  early  opportunities  for  observing  the  condition 
of  the  peasantry  and  the  relations  existing  between 
them  and  their  seigneurs.  Those  relations  were  not 
generally  characterised  by  deliberate  cruelty  on  the 
part  of  the  superior  class,  but  they  may  fairly  be 
said  to  have  attained  the  climax  of  unreality.  The 
whole  fabric  of  society  was  tottering  to  that  awful 
catastrophe  in  which  it  was  so  shortly  to  be  over- 
whelmed. The  feudal  system,  under  which  the  noble, 
while  often  the  oppressor,  was  always  the  protector  of 
his  people,  had  passed  away.  For  a  long  time  back 
the  Central  Government  had  been  working  to  break 


FRENCH   COUNTRY   LIFE  35 

the  power  of  the  nobility  and  to  deprive  them  of  every 
function  which  gave  them  a  raison  d'etre  and  a  pos- 
sibility of  usefulness.  The  local  government  of  each 
province  was  in  the  hands  of  an  intendant  appointed 
by  the  King.  All  public  business,  notably  the  levying 
of  taxation,  was  conducted  by  him  and  by  his  official  j 
subordinates.  The  seigneurs  were  almost  powerless, 
even  to  protect  their  dependants  from  unjust  exactions* 
Their  judicial  power,  once  so  terrible,  was  also  much 
curtailed,  and  they  themselves,  finding  the  cost  of 
administering  justice  beyond  their  means,  were  often 
willing,  for  a  price,  to  abandon  this  part  of  their  ancient 
rights.  When  we  realise  that  their  dealings  with  the 
peasantry  were  mainly  reduced  to  the  always  unpopular  , 
processes  of  rent  collecting  and  game  preserving  we 
cannot  wonder  if  these  last  began  to  ask  themselves 
whether  landlords  were  not  a  superfluity  ?  The  case 
was  much  aggravated  by  the  systematic  absenteeism 
of  all  landholders  who  could  afford  a  house  in  Paris 
and  a  villa  in  the  environs.  The  resident  nobles 
were  mostly  poor,  and  often  poor  to  an  extent  which 
we  have  difficulty  in  realising.  They  could  do  little 
to  help  their  tenants.  They  were  not,  as  a  rule,  in- 
human in  their  dealings  with  them — any  more  than 
was  the  average  Irish  landlord  of  the  bad  old  times 
now  gone.  Like  him,  they  often  waited  long  and 
patiently  for  their  rents,  and  like  him  were  paid 
for  their  forbearance  in  the  somewhat  intangible  coin 
of  prayers  for  their  eternal  welfare.  But  sometimes 
they  were  themselves  so  poor  as  to  be  near  to  actual 
starvation,  and  the  result  would  be  a  fierce,  wild-beast 
struggle  with  the  yet  more  wretched  peasantry. 
Things  were  no  better  on  the  estates  of  the  wealthy 
absentees,  and  here  again  we  are  reminded  of  Ireland, 


36  A    STAR   OF   THE  SALONS 

for  the  underlings  left  in  charge  behaved  with  a  harsh- 
ness which  their  masters,  if  present,  would  seldom 
have  countenanced,  and  of  which  they  often  expressed 
disapproval  when  individual  cases  were  brought  to 
their  notice. 

But  it  is  doubtful  if  even  the  exaction  of  rents 
produced  so  much  bitterness  as  the  preservation  of 
game,  and  to  this  last  rag  of  privilege  the  nobles 
clung  with  unabated  tenacity,  though  no  sort  of  justi- 
fication for  it  any  longer  existed.  In  feudal  times 
the  seigneur  was  supposed  to  enjoy  le  droit  de  chasse 
in  consideration  of  the  services  rendered  by  him  in 
keeping  down  the  wolves  and  wild  boars,  which  were 
then  a  source  of  serious  public  danger.  Some  faint 
reflection  of  the  old  order  may  be  traced  in  the  wolf 
and  boar  hunts  which  were  still  sometimes  held  on 
Sundays  in  Brittany  and  other  parts  of  France,  and 
announced  by  the  priest  from  the  pulpit,  the  whole 
parish  turning  out  after  mass  with  their  seigneur  at 
their  head.  Madame  de  Genlis  tells  us  of  an  old 
baron,  her  father's  neighbour,  who  on  one  such 
occasion  actually  seized  the  wolf  (a  peculiarly  fierce 
animal,  suspected  of  madness)  by  the  tongue,  and  held 
it  thus  till  it  was  despatched  by  his  followers.  He 
lost  a  thumb  in  consequence,  and  went  for  a  time 
in  dread  of  hydrophobia,  but  we  can  understand  that 
his  tenants  would  see  some  reason  in  the  seigneurial 
"right  of  the  chase."  Such  cases  were,  however,  the 
exception.  Sport  was,  generally  speaking,  as  artificial 
as  in  modern  England,  and,  so  far  as  regards  human 
interests,  very  much  more  cruel.  When  we  hear  that 
in  one  district  many  sheep,  varied  by  a  child  now  and 
then,  were  carried  off  by  young  wolves  purposely 
reared  for  the  chase,  we  are  inspired  with  a  certain 


FRENCH   COUNTRY   LIFE  37 

contempt  for  poultry-stealing  foxes.  Game  preserving 
was  carried  to  an  extent  which  nowadays  seems  scarcely 
credible.  Sometimes  the  peasants  were  not  permitted 
to  perform  the  most  urgent  labours  in  their  own  fields 
between  ist  May  and  24th  June,  lest  they  should 
disturb  the  young  partridges.  It  was  no  uncommon 
thing  for  them  to  be  forced  to  watch  all  night  half  the 
year  through  to  protect  their  crops  from  winged  and 
four-footed  marauders  whose  lives  were — to  them — 
perforce  sacred.  Regulations  so  severe  were  of  course, 
at  all  risks,  often  infringed,  and  desperate  affrays  be- 
tween poachers  and  gamekeepers  were  of  frequent 
occurrence. 

Yet  when  we  consider  the  atrocious  system  which 
laid  the  main  burden  of  taxation  on  the  class  least 
able  to  bear  it,  we  may  well  conclude  that  the  un- 
happy people  owed  more  of  their  misery  to  the 
Government  than  to  their  seigneurs.  The  corvde,  or 
compulsory  labour  upon  the  roads,  the  taille,  supposed 
to  represent  the  commutation  for  military  service  (the 
almost  total  exemption  of  the  nobles  being  grounded 
on  the  feudal  conception  of  them  as  the  fighting  caste), 
and  the  gabelle  or  salt- tax  were  the  three  principal 
exactions  under  which  they  groaned.  There  would  be 
something  ludicrous  about  this  last-named  imposition 
had  its  effects  been  less  deeply  tragic.  Every  person 
over  the  age  of  seven  was  obliged  yearly  to  buy  from 
the  Government  stores  seven  pounds  of  much-adulter- 
ated salt  at  thirteen  sous  the  pound — an  enormous 
price  when  we  consider  the  relative  value  of  money 
then  and  now.  So  strictly  was  this  law  enforced  that 
many  persons  are  said  to  have  suffered  death  for  buy- 
ing no  salt  when  they  could  not  afford  even  to  buy 
bread.  At  any  moment  an  official  might  enter  a 


38  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

house,  demand  the  domestic  salt-box,  and  having 
tasted  its  contents  pronounce  them  too  pure  to  be 
otherwise  than  contraband.  He  would  next  examine 
the  pot  of  soup  on  the  fire  and  the  bit  of  bacon  or  salt 
pork  hanging  from  the  rafters  (always  supposing  that 
the  family  was  able  to  indulge  in  such  luxuries),  and 
if  he  saw  reason  to  suspect  any  unorthodox}-  in  the 
seasoning  the  results  might  be  very  serious  for  the 
unhappy  householder. 

The  taille  was,  theoretically,  proportional  to  the 
means  of  those  who  paid  it,  but  this,  apparently,  was  a 
rule  which  only  worked  one  way,  and  that  way  against 
the  contributor.  If  a  man  showed  any  sign  of  in- 
creased prosperity  he  could  safely  reckon  on  having 
to  pay  an  increased  taille.  If  an  official,  in  the  course 
of  his  inquisitorial  visits  to  any  district,  noticed  feathers 
lying  about  on  the  dust  heaps  he  was  sure  to  suggest 
to  his  superiors  that  the  rateable  value  of  a  parish 
which  could  afford  to  consume  its  own  poultry  must 
be  higher  than  had  been  supposed.  One  kind-hearted 
seigneur,  distressed  by  the  number  of  fires  which 
occurred  in  the  cottages  on  his  estate,  offered  at  his 
own  expense  to  replace  the  thatched  roofs  by  tiles. 
The  peasants  thanked  him  warmly  for  his  good  in- 
tention, but  implored  him  to  forbear,  as  the  result 
would  be  an  increase  in  their  taille.  Thus  every 
effort  at  progress,  whether  in  the  improvement  of  land 
or  otherwise,  which  might  have  been  made  by  the 
better  sort  of  either  tenants  or  landlords  was,  through 
the  suicidal  policy  of  the  Government,  relentlessly 
crushed. 

It  is  no  marvel  that  famine  and  disease  were  rife, 
and  that  the  country  absolutely  swarmed  with  beggars. 
Severe  laws  were  enacted  against  these  last,  but  there 


FRENCH   COUNTRY   LIFE  39 

were  two  reasons  why  they  should  be  imperfectly 
carried  into  execution.  In  the  first  place,  all  the 
prisons  in  France  would  not  have  held  those  statutably 
liable  to  arrest  as  vagabonds.  In  the  second,  there 
was  no  Poor  Law  to  fall  back  upon,  and  even  official 
hearts  were  not  always  so  hardened  as  to  be  incapable 
of  pity  for  a  wretch  who  must  either  beg  or  starve. 
That  such  was  the  case  can  only  be  a  matter  for  re- 
joicing, for  France  in  the  eighteenth  century  had  not, 
like  England  in  the  twentieth,  attained  to  a  stage  of 
development  where  mere  almsgiving  does  more  harm 
than  good.  Charity,  even  in  the  technical  and  limited 
sense  of  that  noble  word,  must  have  shed  a  faint  ray 
of  light  on  many  lives  otherwise  plunged  in  utter 
darkness  ;  must  to  some  slight  extent  have  softened 
the  bitterness  of  hearts  swollen  by  a  sense  of  man's 
inhumanity  to  man. 

Charity  represented  by  the  bestowing  of  alms 
was  more  or  less  recognised  as  a  duty  by  all  the 
well-to-do  classes.  The  clergy  in  particular  were 
often,  as  became  their  profession,  compassionate,  but 
here  again  the  curse  of  absenteeism  prevailed.  The 
superior  ecclesiastics  were  all  away  in  Paris ;  the 
average  country  priest  was  a  very  poor  man,  and 
largely  dependent  upon  his  seigneur,  who  was  often 
the  patron  of  the  parish  church  founded  by  his  family, 
and  expected  even  the  hours  of  service  to  be  altered 
to  suit  his  convenience.  It  was  scarcely  to  be  hoped 
that  men  so  circumstanced  should  have  the  courage 
to  stand  between  the  people  and  their  lords.  Yet 
neither  would  it  be  fair  to  assume  that  the  nobles  were 
wholly  untouched  by  the  spirit  of  charity.  We  often 
enough  encounter  individual  instances  of  kindness 
shown  to  the  poor  by  them  and  the  ladies  of  their 


40  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

families.  But  the  utter  inadequacy  of  such  miserable 
tinkering,  and  the  crying  necessity  for  some  measure 
of  genuine  reform,  could  scarcely  fail  to  impress 
themselves  upon  an  intelligent  observer,  and  we  may 
readily  conjecture  that  it  was  so  with  Julie  de 
Lespinasse. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A    NOTABLE    VISITOR 

DURING  the  latter  half  of  Julie's  residence  at 
Champrond  her  own  troubles  must  have  occupied 
her  sufficiently  to  distract  her  thoughts  from  the 
miseries  around  her.  The  first  two  years  seem  to 
have  passed,  if  not  happily,  at  least  in  comparative 
tranquillity.  But  in  the  course  of  the  third  year  things 
went  exceedingly  wrong.  We  may  surmise  that  about 
this  time  the  real  facts  concerning  her  relationship  to 
the  heads  of  the  house  first  became  known  to  her. 
To  the  end  of  her  life  she  never  forgot  the  horror  of 
this  revelation,  nor  the  cruelty  with  which  it  was  made. 
Doubtless,  as  the  homely  saying  has  it,  there  were 
"faults  on  both  sides."  We  may  well  suppose  that 
this  sensitive,  high-spirited  girl  was  far  from  having 
yet  acquired  that  marvellous  tact  and  self-control 
which  in  after  years  distinguished  her.  It  is  likely 
enough  that  the  inquiries  prompted  by  growing 
anxiety  to  understand  her  position  were  framed  in  no 
conciliatory  spirit,  and  the  brutality  with  which  her 
doubts  were  at  last  resolved  may  thus  be  partly 
excused.  We  can  without  difficulty  believe  that,  on 
learning  the  truth,  her  agony  found  expression  in  wild 
reproaches  against  her  unnatural  father,  thereby  ex- 
asperating Gaspard's  violent  temper  to  a  pitch  at 
which  all  compunction  was  lost  sight  of.  We  can 
imagine  his  savage  retort  that  she  was  at  least  in- 
debted to  him  for  the  bread  which  she  did  not  earn, 
41 


42  A   STAR    OF   THE  SALONS 

and  the  feverish  defiant  spirit  in  which  her  services  to 
the  children,  hitherto  a  labour  of  love,  would  now  be 
redoubled  by  her,  as  the  only  means  of  giving  him  the 
lie,  and  how  one  miserable  scene  would  lead  inevit- 
ably to  another,  till  the  most  elementary  courtesy  or 
forbearance  became  an  impossibility. 

That  on  the  side  of  the  de  Vichys  very  hard 
things  were  said,  and  even  done,  there  can  be  no 
reasonable  doubt.  We  might  hesitate  entirely  to 
accept  Julie's  statement  to  Madame  du  Deffand  that 
she  was  "treated  in  the  harshest  and  most  humiliat- 
ing manner,"  "  that  violent  scenes  were  of  every-day 
occurrence,"  for  this  complaint  was  uttered  while  the 
wound  was  still  fresh  and  sore,  but  the  same  re- 
servation scarcely  applies  to  the  confidences  made 
more  than  twenty  years  later  to  Guibert  and 
Condorcet.  "  How  cruel  human  beings  can  be  !  "  she 
writes,  in  reference  to  this  period  of  her  life.  "  Tigers 
are  kind  in  comparison."  And  again  :  "  I  experienced 
nothing  but  inhumanity  from  the  very  persons  who 
were  most  bound  to  show  me  consideration."  At  the 
age  of  forty,  we  are  seldom  inclined,  without  some 
fairly  strong  reason,  to  throw  upon  others  the  un- 
divided blame  for  past  unhappiness. 

Julie  came  at  last  to  the  conclusion  that  this  state 
of  things  was  no  longer  bearable,  and  determined  to 
cut  it  short.  It  will  be  remembered  that,  by  her 
mother's  will,  provision  had  been  made  for  enabling 
her  to  enter  either  of  the  two  callings  alone  recognised 
as  offering  an  honourable  and  fairly  comfortable  exis- 
tence to  women  of  the  better  class.  But,  with  the 
small  ,dowry  of  6000  francs  bequeathed  for  this  pur- 
pose, marriage,  except  with  someone  hopelessly  her 
inferior  in  education  and  refinement,  would  have 


A   NOTABLE   VISITOR  43 

been  out  of  the  question.1  For  her  entry  into 
religion,  however,  this  sum  might  have  sufficed,  and 
Madame  de  Segur  thinks  that  to  "religion"  her 
mind  was  for  an  instant  turned.  In  any  case  it  is 
certain  that  she  wished,  provisionally,  to  become  a 
boarder  in  some  convent,  in  full  confidence  that  her 
brother,  Camille  d'Albon,  would  increase  her  annuity 
of  thirteen  pounds  sufficiently  to  cover  living  ex- 
penses. "He  has  always  treated  me  like  his  own 
sister,"  she  said  about  this  time  to  Madame  du 
Deffand.  Besides,  she  was  beginning  to  understand 
the  obligation  under  which  she  had  laid  him  by 
relinquishing  her  mother's  dying  gift. 

She  communicated  her  decision  to  Madame  de 
Vichy,  by  whom  it  was  strongly  opposed.  Diane 
had  some  affection  for  her  young  sister,  whose 
devotion  to  the  children  she  also  much  appreciated. 
She  pressed  her  to  remain  with  such  genuine  kindness 
that  Julie  reluctantly  consented  to  defer  her  departure 
for  some  months.  It  is  noteworthy,  indeed,  that  the 
girl's  resentment  seems  to  have  been  almost  wholly 
directed  against  the  master  of  the  house.  "You 
know  my  affection  for  your  mother,"  she  wrote,  long 
after,  to  her  favourite  pupil,  Abel ;  "  she  has  shown  me 
a  great  deal  of  kindness  in  all  sorts  of  ways."  And 
in  the  same  letter  she  uses  expressions  which  seem  to 
imply  that  Madame  de  Vichy's  attitude  on  the  ques- 
tion of  the  d'Albon  inheritance  was,  in  her  opinion, 

1  Compare  the  case  of  another  illegitimate  child,  whose  parents, 
the  Chevalier  d'Aydie  and  the  ill-fated  Mademoiselle  Aisse",  hoped, 
with  the  much  larger  portion  of  40,000  francs  down,  besides  400  of 
yearly  income,  to  marry  her  very  comfortably  en  province..  To  save 
the  necessary  amount,  both  father  and  mother  cheerfully  submitted  to 
many  privations,  for  we  must  not  be  so  unjust  as  to  conclude,  from  the 
example  of  Gaspard  de  Vichy,  that  duty  and  natural  affection  were  always 
disregarded  in  such  cases. 


44  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

wholly  attributable  to  Gaspard's  influence.  Here 
indeed,  more  than  anywhere  else,  we  may  discern  the 
bitter  root  of  that  daily  wrangling  so  deeply  resented 
by  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse.  It  is  perfectly  cer- 
tain— chimerical  as  such  an  idea  appears  to  us — 
that,  in  the  opinion  of  the  de  Vichys,  Julie's  claim  to 
a  share  in  her  mother's  property  could  even  yet  have 
been  made  good  in  law,  and  equally  certain  that  the 
same  view  was  held  by  the  girl  herself,  to  whom 
it  may  have  been  suggested  by  some  confidential 
retainer  of  the  family  in  possession  of  the  facts  and 
attached  to  her  interest.  Hence,  on  Gaspard's  part, 
the  reluctance,  arising  from  a  better  motive  in  his 
wife,  to  allow  her  to  escape  from  his  surveillance  by 
leaving  Champrond,  and  hence  the  perpetual  suspicion 
and  miscontruction  to  which  her  every  action  was 
now  exposed. 

This  most  harassing  existence  had  dragged  on  for 
more  than  a  year  from  Julie's  first  declaration  of 
her  intention  to  seek  an  asylum  elsewhere,  when  an 
event  occurred  which  completely  changed  the  current 
of  affairs.  Madame  du  Deffand,  sister  to  the  Comte 
de  Vichy,  arrived  at  Champrond  on  a  visit.  This 
remarkable  woman,  destined  to  exercise  an  incalcul- 
able influence  upon  our  heroine's  fortunes,  was  now 
(1752)  in  her  fifty-fifth  year.  The  fame  of  her  intel- 
lectual powers,  of  her  brilliant  and  scathing  sarcasm, 
and  her  almost  unrivalled  ability  as  a  conversationalist 
has  endured  down  to  our  own  day,  yet  to  a  modern 
reader  the  special  interest  of  her  career  lies  less  in 
these  things  than  in  the  peculiar  facilities  which  it 
affords  us  for  studying,  as  in  an  abstract,  the  social 
code  of  the  society  to  which  she  belonged,  with  its 
strange  tolerances  and  stranger  reservations. 


THE   MARQUISE   DU   DEFFAND 

HV    FOKSHEL,    AFTER   CARMONTEI.I.E 


A   NOTABLE   VISITOR  45 

She  was  born  at  Champrond,  in  the  year  1697,  but 
her  upbringing  was  by  no  means  that  of  a  country 
girl.  Like  most  young  ladies  of  her  time,  she  was 
early  sent  to  a  convent  school,  and  only  left  it  on  her 
marriage  to  the  Marquis  du  Deffand,  in  1718.  To 
some  compassionate  souls  this  sudden  plunge  from 
cloistered  seclusion  into  the  difficulties  of  married  life 
and  the  social  maelstrom  of  the  Regency  might  seem 
to  furnish  an  excuse  for  much  of  what  was  to  follow  ; 
but  they  would  be  mightily  mistaken  in  their  conjec- 
ture. The  fashionable  Paris  convent  of  that  day  (and 
such  was  La  Madeleine  du  Traisnel  where  Marie 
de  Vichy  received  her  education)  was  no  abode  of 
Arcadian  symplicity  nor — to  any  alarming  extent — of 
innocence.  The  heads  of  such  institutions  were 
women  of  high  rank,  who,  despite  their  vows,  had 
by  no  means  renounced  the  world.  Visitors,  of  both 
sexes,  found  their  way  frequently  within  the  precincts  ; 
exeats,  for  the  pupils  at  all  events,  were  easily  pro- 
cured ;  the  flow  of  communication  with  the  outside  was 
uninterrupted,  and  the  latest  Court  scandal  was  as 
likely  as  not  to  form  the  topic  of  conversation.  Grimm 
relates  an  extraordinary  but  quite  authentic  story  of  a 
girl  educated  at  the  abbey  of  Panthemont,  who,  on  the 
strength  of  the  information  gleaned  through  a  school 
friend  in  touch  with  the  highest  circles,  wrote  a  society 
novel  which  was  recognised  by  the  fashionable  world 
as  so  inconveniently  true  to  life  that  it  procured  for 
the  author  an  imprisonment  of  some  months  in  the 
Bastille.  We  may  be  tolerably  certain  that  Mademois- 
elle de  Vichy  was  no  ingenue  of  the  innocent  and 
"sheltered"  type  when  she  accepted  the  husband 
selected  for  her  by  family  arrangement  and — the 
marriage  scarcely  over — decided  that,  as  a  husband, 


46  A    STAR    OF   THE  SALONS 

he  was  impossible.  For  this  prompt  conclusion  we 
cannot  severely  blame  her.  Monsieur  du  Deffand  was 
not  merely  an  uninteresting  but  an  aggressively  objec- 
tionable individual.  "He  was  always  taking  trouble 
to  make  himself  disagreeable" — a  phrase  which, 
unhappily,  sums  up  the  dealings  of  many  better  men 
with  their  womankind.  Considerable  latitude,  besides, 
was  allowed  by  public  opinion  to  ladies  unsatisfactorily 
married.  It  had  its  limits,  however,  and  though  these 
are,  from  the  modern  point  of  view,  as  difficult  to 
define  as  it  is  for  outsiders  nowadays  to  determine 
the  exact  length  to  which  a  gentleman  may  go  before 
being  expelled  from  his  club,  the  fact  to  be  noted  is 
that  Madame  du  Deffand  contrived  to  overstep  them. 
It  was  then  the  heyday  of  the  Regency,  that  time 
of  mad  reaction  against  the  sombre  restraint  imposed 
by  the  uncrowned  queen,  Madame  de  Maintenon  ;  the 
period  of  flowing,  voluptuous  dress  ;  of  all-night  galas 
in  the  illuminated  Cours  la  Reine  and  the  Regent's 
Park  at  St  Cloud,  and  of  those  unparalleled  suppers  at 
the  Palais  Royal,  where  the  exquisite  food  was  cooked 
in  utensils  of  silver  and  the  rich  wines  flowed  with- 
out stint ;  where  duchesses  sat  pell-mell  with  opera 
dancers,  and  men  of  the  vilest  origin  needed  but  to 
be  witty  enough,  and  shameless  enough,  to  take  their 
places  among  the  highest  in  the  land.  As  if  to  the 
manner  born  the  young  Madame  du  Deffand  made 
her  way  at  once  to  the  very  heart  of  this  brilliant, 
fascinating,  and  inconceivably  corrupt  society.  She 
had  claims  as  a  beauty  no  less  than  as  a  wit,  and  she 
soon  won  the  favour  of  the  Regent  himself,  who  loved 
her  faithfully  for  at  least  a  fortnight,  and,  if  scandal 
spoke  true,  had  more  than  one  successor  in  her 
affections. 


A   NOTABLE   VISITOR  47 

For  a  time  all  went  gaily,  but  it  seems  that,  for 
ladies  at  anyrate,  public  opinion  drew  the  line  at 
Palais  Royal  suppers  and  St  Cloud  fetes.  While  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  lived,  this  was  of  little  importance 
to  Madame  du  Deffand,  but  when  his  death  had 
broken  up  the  circle  of  which  she  was  a  distinguished 
ornament  she  found  herself  an  alien  and  an  exile  in 
Paris,  and  realised  that  she  had  made  a  mistake. 
Being  a  very  clever  woman,  she  set  to  work  to  re- 
pair it  by  seeking  a  reconciliation  with  her  husband. 
This  last-named  gentleman  had  long  ago  requested 
her  to  leave  his  house — an  exercise  of  marital  self- 
assertion  which  rather  raises  him  in  our  opinion — 
but  he  turned  a  friendly  ear  to  her  overtures,  and  at 
first  all  promised  well.  For  six  weeks  Madame  du 
Deffand  made  herself  as  charming  to  him  as  she  had 
been  to  the  husbands  of  other  ladies,  but  at  the  end 
of  that  period  she  found  it  impossible,  in  colloquial 
phrase,  to  "keep  it  up  any  longer,"  and  the  couple 
parted  once  more — this  time,  for  good. 

Foiled  thus  in  her  first  design  for  recovering  re- 
spectability, the  courageous  woman  had  recourse  to  a 
second,  not  quite  so  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  con- 
ventions of  the  present  century.  As  a  necessary,  or 
at  least  a  desirable,  preliminary  she  obtained  a  judic- 
ial separation  from  her  husband.  On  what  grounds 
she  did  so  is  not  quite  clear,  for  she  was  certainly  not 
the  injured  party,  but  as  there  was  no  objection  on 
the  part  of  M.  du  Deffand  an  amicable  arrangement 
would  be  easily  arrived  at.  Her  next  step  was  to 
take  to  herself  a  lover  en  litre  \  for  such  a  proceed- 
ing was,  under  certain  conditions,  held  to  confer 
respectability.  These  conditions  were  all  fulfilled 
in  the  present  case.  Henault,  the  person  on  whom 


48  A   STAR   OF   THE  SALONS 

Madame  du  Deffand's  choice  had  fallen,  and  of  whom 
we  shall  hear  more  hereafter,  was  a  widower.  She 
herself  was  as  much  unmarried  as  was  possible  in  a 
country  where  divorce  did  not  exist.  Both  cherished 
the  intention  of  more  or  less  settling  down  after  their 
stormy  youth  under  the  Regency.  The  outward  forms 
of  decorum  were  by  both  scrupulously  observed  (they 
never,  for  example,  lived  under  the  same  roof),  and 
finally  the  fact  that  neither  of  them  appears  to  have 
been  at  any  time  in  love  with  the  other  imparted  to 
their  relations  the  particular  shade  of  polite  indiffer- 
ence appropriate  to  a  genuine  marriage  comme  il  faut. 
Apart  from  this  alliance  "of  convenience,"  Madame 
du  Deffand's  conduct  really  was,  for  the  rest  of  her 
life,  irreproachable,  and  she  succeeded  in  regaining  a 
place  in  society,  though  the  process  was  a  longer  one 
than  we  should  have  expected. 

Soon  a  small  but  choice  company,  the  friends 
chiefly  of  Henault,  gathered  around  the  modest  house 
in  the  Rue  de  Beaune  where  she  had  taken  up  her 
abode.  Through  Renault's  influence  also  she  gained 
admission  to  the  so-called  "Court"  of  Sceaux,  where 
for  many  years  her  summers  were  regularly  spent. 
The  Due  du  Maine,  the  master  of  this  semi-regal 
mansion,  was  a  son  of  Louis  XIV.  and  of  Madame 
de  Montespan.  His  wife,  a  Bourbon  princess,  and  an 
attractive  though  scarcely  a  lovable  woman,  had  the 
excellent  quality,  by  no  means  rare  in  the  great  ladies 
of  that  period,  of  admiring  talent  in  others.  Her 
house  was  recognised  as  a  meeting-ground  for  all 
the  most  brilliant  men  and  women  of  the  day.  It 
was  at  Sceaux  that  Madame  du  Deffand  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  celebrated  mathematician, 
d'Alembert,  hereafter  to  be  known  as  the  lover  of  Julie 


LA   DUCHESSE   DU    MAINE  (IN    CHILDHOOD) 

FROM    THE    FAINTING    liY    MJGNARl)    IN   THE    MUSEE    DE    VERSAILLES 


A   NOTABLE   VISITOR  49 

de  Lespinasse.  It  was  there  that  Voltaire  composed 
some  of  his  most  admired  stories,  which  he  read  aloud 
for  the  amusement  of  his  hostess.  His  chere  amie, 
Madame  du  Chatelet  (whom  Sainte-Beuve  rather  neatly 
calls  a  Hypatia  minus  the  virtue  and  the  beauty), 
pursued  her  scientific  labours  in  the  rooms  reserved 
for  her  under  the  same  hospitable  roof,  joining  the 
gay  assembly  in  the  salons  only  when  the  evening  was 
far  advanced.  Mademoiselle  de  Launay,  the  future 
Madame  de  Staal,  was  among  the  personal  attendants 
of  the  Duchess. 

This  miniature  court  affords  us  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity for  studying  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
factitious  country  life  represented  by  a  few  great 
houses.  It  differed  widely  indeed  from  the  existence 
of  the  genuine  country  dwellers  described  in  an  earlier 
chapter,  being  in  fact  a  mere  reproduction  of  the 
fashionable  Parisian  routine,  with  all  its  pomp  and 
glitter,  its  late  hours,  its  sedentary  amusements,  and 
its  quasi-intellectual  activities.  Card-playing,  im- 
promptu verse-making,  theatricals,  literary  readings, 
and,  above  all,  ceaseless  discussion  of  everything 
and  everybody  under  heaven  were  the  order  of  the 
day  and  night.  The  claims  of  rural  surroundings 
were  duly  recognised  by  open-air  fetes,  boating 
expeditions,  and  even  by  some  measure  of  sport — 
of  the  safe  and  picturesque  order,  we  may  surmise. 
This  was  the  kind  of  existence  which  suited  Madame 
du  Deffand,  which  gave  full  play  to  her  conversational 
powers,  and  to  her  gift  of  effective  and  ill-natured 
epigram,  and  she  was  long  a  persona  grata  at  Sceaux. 

Her  visits  had,  however,  grown  shorter  and  fewer 
for  some  years  before  the  death  of  the  Duchess  du 
Maine,  which  took  place  in  1753.  The  truth  was 


50  A   STAR    OF   THE  SALONS 

that,  having  gradually  acquired  a  considerable  number 
of  interesting  acquaintances,  she  was  now  meditating 
the  grand  move  of  setting  up  a  salon  for  herself. 
Her  husband  had  died  in  1/50.  For  the  liberty  thus 
regained  she  probably  cared  little,  since  neither 
Henault  nor  she  had  any  wish  to  render  their  union 
more  binding  than  it  was.  But  her  pecuniary  re- 
sources, much  straitened  since  the  separation,  were 
increased  by  Monsieur  du  Deffand's  decease,  a  cir- 
cumstance which  of  course  facilitated  her  scheme. 
But  Fortune  had  a  terrible  blow  in  reserve  for  her. 
The  new  salon  started  on  its  career  with  every 
prospect  of  success,  but  its  mistress  meanwhile  was 
struggling  against  one  of  the  worst  calamities  which 
can  befall  a  human  being.  She  was  going  blind. 

Madame  du  Deffand  was  not  in  any  sense  what 
by  the  widest  stretch  of  charity  can  be  called  a  good 
woman,  but  the  courage  with  wrhich  she  endured  this 
unspeakable  affliction  is  beyond  all  praise.  Scarcely 
a  complaint  escaped  her.  When  remedy  after  remedy 
had  in  turn  been  tried,  and  all  hope  of  recovery  had 
vanished,  she  faced  the  awful  prospect  with  unflinch- 
ing fortitude,  resolved  that  life  should  yet  yield  her 
some  satisfaction.  She  was  determined  not  to 
abandon  the  social  position  which  it  had  cost  her 
so  much  effort  to  obtain,  though  the  increased 
difficulty  of  maintaining  it  weighed  heavily  on  her 
mind.  It  was  while  affairs  were  in  this  state  that 
she  came  to  pass  a  part  of  the  summer  with  her 
brother,  Gaspard  de  Vichy.  According  to  M.  de 
Se"gur,  this  was  her  first  visit  to  Champrond  for  nearly 
forty  years.  She  much  preferred  country  life  as 
understood  at  Sceaux,  or  at  one  or  two  other  semi- 
palatial  establishments  where  she  was  now  on  visiting 


A   NOTABLE   VISITOR  51 

terms.  In  spite  of  Gaspard's  attentions — possibly 
even  on  account  of  them — she  was  not  attached  to 
him,  and  though  in  after  years  a  tolerably  normal 
aunt  to  Abel  de  Vichy,  she  does  not  seem  at  this 
time  to  have  taken  much  interest  in  him  or  in  the 
other  children.  Yet  some  faint  undercurrent  of 
family  feeling  may  have  led  her  in  this  hour  of 
trouble  to  turn  for  consolation  to  her  old  home,  and 
she  came  prepared  to  be  agreeable.  She  brought 
presents  for  everybody,  and  her  servants  (footman, 
majordomo,  and  maid,  we  may  suppose)  had  strict 
orders  to  give  no  trouble,  and  in  fact,  if  we  are  to 
believe  the  testimony  of  their  mistress,  made  them- 
selves more  useful  in  the  house  than  the  de  Vichys'  own 
domestics — a  touch  quite  in  Madame  du  Deffand's  style, 
and  implying  a  sister's,  and  perhaps  a  sister-in-law's, 
contempt  for  the  efficiency  of  the  "  four  lackeys,  two 
cooks,  coachman  and  two  postillions  "  of  the  chateau. 
But  there  was,  after  all,  only  one  inmate  of  Cham- 
prond  to  whom  she  felt  really  attracted — the  girl  with 
the  graceful  figure  and  the  expressive  face,  who  looked 
so  sad,  and  whose  eyes  seemed  to  fill  unbidden  with 
tears.  She  found  Monsieur  and  Madame  de  Vichy 
fairly  communicative  on  this  subject,  though  how 
much  they  at  first  told  her  of  Julie's  real  history  is 
uncertain.  But  it  is  only  doing  them  justice  to  say 
that,  behind  her  back,  they  spoke  very  favourably  of 
her.  She  was  such  a  good  girl,  and  so  clever,  and  so 
kind  to  the  children !  Only,  added  Gaspard,  she  had 
a  deplorable  fancy  to  leave  her  happy  home  with  them 
and  bury  herself  in  a  convent.  For  his,  Gaspard's, 
part  he  did  not  much  care,  but  it  was  a  great  grief  to 
his  wife.  Madame  du  Deffand  thought,  or  affected 
to  think,  that  Julie's  resolution  was  an  unwise  one,  and 


52  A   STAR   OF   THE  SALONS 

undertook  to  remonstrate  with  her.  She  had  taken 
a  strong  fancy  to  this  girl,  and,  as  nobody  knew  how 
to  be  more  charming  than  she  in  such  circumstances, 
she  soon  won  the  younger  woman's  confidence.  The 
bitter  tale  of  injury  and  insult  was  poured  out  to  her, 
and  it  is  a  significant  fact  that  she  never  seemed  to 
doubt  its  substantial  accuracy.  For  no  possible  con- 
sideration would  Julie  remain  at  Champrond.  She 
had  written  to  her  brother,  and  he  was  to  select  a 
convent  and  arrange  for  her  journey  thither.  Her 
new  friend  drew  a  discouraging  picture  of  the  dis- 
comforts attending  convent  life  on  an  income  of  thir- 
teen pounds,  but  always  received  the  same  answer:  any 
place  on  earth  would  be  better  than  Champrond. 

Her  departure  was,  however,  delayed  till  the  end 
of  October,  two  months  later  than  the  beginning  of 
Madame  du  Deffand's  visit.  During  this  time  they 
were  much  together,  and  as  Julie's  charm  and  ability 
impressed  themselves  more  and  more  on  her  com- 
panion, it  occurred  to  her  that  here  was  the  very 
person  who,  if  transplanted  to  Paris,  might  help  her 
in  her  social  projects  and  at  the  same  time  be  of 
singular  comfort  to  herself  in  her  darkness  and  lone- 
liness. This  scheme  went,  at  the  time,  no  further 
than  a  hint  thrown  out  at  the  last  moment,  and  joy- 
fully received,  and  a  promise  to  write  to  each  other. 
When  at  last  the  carriage  and  the  escort  provided 
by  Camille  arrived,  there  was  a  leavetaking  of  unex- 
pected poignancy.  Not  only  the  children,  but  their 
mother  and,  mirabile  dictii,  their  father  were  dissolved  in 
tears,  and  entreated  the  departing  guest  to  abandon, 
even  then,  her  resolution.  Such  was  the  fascination 
which  this  singular  girl  all  her  life  exercised,  even 
on  those  of  whom  she  had  most  reason  to  complain. 


CHAPTER    V 

IN    CONVENT   WALLS 

NATIONAL  opinion  in  France  has  now  decisively 
pronounced  that  convents  are  no  longer  a 
necessity,  but  it  is  obvious  that  there,  as  in  other 
Roman  Catholic  countries,  they  formerly  fulfilled  a 
threefold  purpose  of  great  utility :  first,  as  providing  (4) 
a  career  for  superfluous  women  ;  secondly,  as  educa- 
tional institutions,  and  thirdly,  as  safe  and  decent 
boarding-houses  for  the  unprotected  female.  With 
regard  to  the  first  of  these  objects,  it  is  sufficient  here 
to  observe  that  Montesquieu,  in  his  "  Esprit  des 
Lois,"  represents  the  girls  of  England  as  being  in  this 
respect  at  a  disadvantage  compared  with  those  of 
France,  since  they  had  no  alternative  to  a  possibly 
distasteful  marriage ;  and  he  thus  accounts  for  the 
greater  liberty  of  matrimonial  choice  which  their 
parents  were  obliged  in  common  justice  to  allow  them. 
As  for  the  second,  the  services  rendered  by  the  con- 
vent system  in  placing  girls'  schools  on  a  far  higher 
footing  socially  than  was  accorded  them  in  England, 
are  not  generally  recognised.  Amongst  ourselves, 
school -teaching  was,  up  to  a  comparatively  recent 
date,  regarded  as  a  profession  even  more  unfit  for 
gentlewomen  than  private  governessing.  It  is  only 
necessary  to  recall  the  contempt  with  which  Jane 
Austen's  "  Emma"  dismisses  a  priori  the  social  claims 
of  "a  teacher  in  a  school,"  though,  where  governesses 
in  families  like  Jane  Fairfax  and  Mrs  Weston  are 
53 


54  A    STAR    OF   THE  SALONS 

concerned,  she  is  content  to  judge  each  case  on  its 
individual  merits.  In  France,  thanks  to  the  convents, 
no  such  feeling  existed.  Ladies  of  the  highest  rank 
might,  and  often  did,  "enter  religion,"  and  where  their 
choice  fell  on  a  teaching  order  of  nuns  they  might  quite 
easily  act  as  schoolmistresses.  This  was  a  fortiori 
the  case  with  that  numerous  class  of  well-born  women 
who  took  the  veil  because  their  impoverished  though 
aristocratic  parents  could  not  afford  to  establish 
them  otherwise  in  life,  and  who  were  naturally 
expected  to  supplement  the  small  "dowry"  they 
brought  with  them  by  some  service  to  their  convent.; 
Even  to  teachers  of  a  lower  social  grade  a  certain 
priestige  was  imparted  by  the  religious  habit,  unat- 
tainable by  women  in  Protestant  countries,  but  closely 
resembling  that  conferred  upon  men  by  taking  Holy 
Orders ;  without  which  even  Dr  Arnold  thought  that 
it  would  be  hard  for  a  schoolmaster  to  get  himself 
recognised  as  a  gentleman.  The  same  social  superi- 
ority may  be  predicated  of  the  pupils  as  of  the 
mistresses.  The  greatest  men  in  the  land  habitually 
sent  their  daughters  to  school,  which,  even  now,  is 
not  the  case  in  England.  The1  two  great  Abbeys  of 
Fontevrault  and  Panthe"mont  held  a  position  which 
may  without  violence  be  compared  to  that  of  Eton 
and  Harrow.  The  children  of  the  greatest  nobles, 
nay,  princesses  of  the  blood-royal,  were  among  their 
scholars  ;  and  though  they  lived  in  great  state,  each 
girl  having  her  own  maid  and  her  private  governess, 
all  wore  the2  simple  school  uniform  and  were  proud 

1  According  to  the  brothers  Goncourt,  the  Convent  of  the  Presentation 
was  only  a  little  below  that  of  Panthe'mont  in  importance.     But  Panthe'- 
mont  is  most  often  mentioned  in  the  memoirs  of  the  period. 

2  An  over  and  under  skirt  of  brown  stuff,  the  bodice,  alas  !  tight-fitting 
and  well  armed  with  whalebone,  and  a  white  cap  edged  with  lace. 


IN   CONVENT   WALLS  55 

to  be  members  of  communities  so  distinguished. 
Next  came  the  many  less  imposing  but  still  aristo- 
cratic institutions,  such  as  La  Madeleine  du  Traisnel, 
mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  and  then  the  long  roll 
of  quiet,  unpretentious  religious  houses,  where  the 
young  boiirgeoises  received  their  education. 

The  mixture  of  classes,  always  a  desirable  object, 
must,  by  the  French  system,  have  been  in  some 
measure  secured,  especially  when  the  distinction  was 
one  of  moaeyrather  than  of  birth.  Thus,  Mademoiselle 
d'Albert,  the  girl-novelist,  already  mentioned,  was  a 
penniless  gentlewoman  admitted  to  Panthdmont  as  a 
relative  of  the  Abbess,  and  she  became  the  familiar 
friend  of  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan,  a  daughter  of  one 
of  the  greatest  houses  of  France,  who  stood  by  her 
loyally  through  the  storm  which  followed  on  the 
libellous  novel  and  procured  her  release  from  the 
Bastille  and  a  pension.  As  between  nobility  and 
bourgeoisie,  doubtless,  the  line  of  demarcation  would 
be  more  strictly  drawn,  yet  Duclos'  lamentation  that, 
in  convent  schools,  birth  was  always  favoured,  and 
girls  thus  missed  the  wholesome  experience  some- 
times allowed  to  boys  of  seeing  brains  fairly  pitted 
against  blood,  seems  to  show  that  the  two  orders  were 
not  irrevocably  separated,  and  indeed  in  provincial 
convents  such  rigour  would  have  been  impossible. 
Thus,  the  gulf  between  girls  of  the  upper  and  middle 
classes  would  be  less  pronounced  than  it  then  was  in  I 
England. 

The  educational  activity  of  the  nuns  was  not  bounded 
by  either  of  these  classes.  Secular  schools  for  the 
children  of  the  poor  were  certainly  not  unknown.  Fe"li- 
citd  de  Saint- Aubyn  learned  to  read  from  the  village 
schoolmistress,  and  the  country  schoolmaster  buying 


56  A   STAR   OF   THE  SALONS 

a  second-hand  wig  in  Paris,  wherewith  to  overawe  his 
pupils  on  his  return,  is  mentioned  by  Mercier  as  a 
familiar  figure  of  those  times.  But  both  in  the  capital 
and  the  provinces  numbers  of  convents,  besides  their 
school  for  young  ladies,1  had  another  for  the  daughters 
of  the  people,  whom  they  taught  gratuitously.  It  was 
at  the  little  local  convent  of  Bort  that  Marmontel's 
peasant  mother  received  her  education,  such  as  it  was, 
and  he  himself  was  by  special  favour  admitted  to  learn 
his  first  rudiments  there. 

It  is,  however,  the  third  intent  of  conventual  institu- 
tions with  which  we  are  here  chiefly  concerned,  and 
the  fiercest  Protestant  will  not  deny  that  in  this 
capacity  they  supplied  a  want  then  much  felt  in 
England,  where  the  ordinary  lodging-house  or  inn 
was  as  unsafe  for  solitary  women  as  in  France,  and 
yet  no  alternative  was  provided.  How  different,  for 
example,  might  have  been  the  fate  of  Clarissa,  if  she 
could  have  taken  refuge  in  a  convent,  where  she 
would  certainly  have  been  protected  from  Lovelace, 
and,  having  in  view  her  grandfather's  estate,  probably 
from  the  Harlowes  also !  For  a  girl  in  the  position 
of  Julie  de  Lespinasse  it  was  well  to  have  such  an 
asylum  to  fall  back  upon.  But  there  was  this  draw- 
back, that  though  living  in  a  quiet  provincial  convent, 
such  as  that  selected  for  her  at  Lyon  by  her  brother, 
was  probably  as  inexpensive  as  anywhere,  thirteen 
pounds  a  year  were,  as  Madame  du  Deffand  had 
warned  her,  insufficient  even  there  to  live  upon  com- 
fortably ;  for  her  expectations  of  a  supplementary 
allowance  from  Camille  were  doomed  to  disappoint- 

1  As  a  testimony  to  the  good  work  done  by  the  religious  orders  in 
educating  the  people  we  may  note  that  out  of  five  servants  mentioned  in 
the  will  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  (1776)  only  one,  a  charwoman, 
was  unable  to  sign  her  own  name  in  receipt  of  the  legacy  bequeathed. 


IN   CONVENT  WALLS  57 

ment.  It  is  true  that  thirty  years  earlier  we  find  a 
protegee  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  received  in  a 
similar  institution  for  half  that  sum,  but  food  had 
grown  dearer  since  then,  and  she  was,  moreover,  only 
entitled  to  a  room,  without  furniture,  to  buy  which 
Madame  de  Maintenon  allowed  her  fifty  francs  (£i). 
Besides,  nobody's  budget  can  be  so  framed  as  to  include 
only  the  bare  cost  of  living.  In  such  surroundings 
the  great  clothes  question  would  not,  for  a  long  time, 
become  pressing,  especially  as  we  may  hope  that 
Madame  de  Vichy's  "kindness"  had  extended  to 
some  reinforcement  of  her  sister's  wardrobe.  But  it 
was  considered  necessary  at  stated  times  (probably 
New  Year)  to  give  some  presents  to  the  servants  of 
the  community.  And  even  under  a  scheme  of  things 
in  which  tea-shops  and  omnibuses  have  no  place, 
nobody  could  exist  wholly  without  pocket-money,  if 
only  to  have  a  penny  to  bestow  now  and  then  among 
the  piteous  throngs  of  beggars  who  were  everywhere 
in  evidence.  Manon  Phlipon,  the  future  Madame 
Roland,  when  reduced  by  a  quarrel  with  her  father  to 
very  similar  circumstances,  took  the  course  of  simply 
renting,  for  sixty  francs  yearly,  a  bedroom  in  the 
convent,  and  doing  her  own  marketing  and  cooking ; 
her  fare  consisting  chiefly  of  rice,  potatoes,  and  haricot 
beans  "dressed  in  a  saucepan  with  salt  and  a  little 
butter" — which  last  is  a  dainty  dish  enough.  But 
Manon  had  been  carefully  trained  by  her  mother  to 
housekeeping,  as  housekeeping  is  understood  in  an 
establishment  of  one  servant,  an  advantage  not 
possessed  by  Julie,  who  could  attempt  no  such  heroic 
measures.  We  are  not  surprised  to  find  that  she  was 
obliged  to  share  a  bedroom  with  one  or  more  com- 
panions, an  experience  which  may  have  led  her  to  the 


58  A   STAR   OF   THE  SALONS 

opinion  that  there  were  other  places  of  residence  on 
earth  not  much  better  than  the  Chateau  of  Cham- 
prond.  In  the  absence  of  definite  information  we  can 
only  wonder  whether  she  was  further  reduced  to  take 
her  meals  in  the  bare  barrack  of  a  room  which  served 
as  general  refectory  or  could  afford  the  more  rechercht 
table  of  the  Abbess,  to  which  that  favoured  section 
of  the  schoolgirls  proper  denominated  in  England 
"parlour-boarders"  was  admitted. 

We  must  not  imagine  that  the  average  convent  was, 
for  lay  persons,  at  all  a  duller  place  of  residence  than 
is  the  ordinary  modern  boarding-house,  English  or 
foreign,  "for  ladies  only."  There  was,  in  the  first 
place,  a  greater  variety  among  the  inmates  :  every  age 
was  there  represented,  from  the  little  toddling  child, 
whose  parents  were  glad  to  be  rid  of  it,  to  the  grey- 
haired  widow  bringing  with  her  the  experience  of  a 
long  life  spent  in  the  outer  world.  Between  these  two 
extremes  were  the  schoolchildren  under  discipline ; 
the  older  girls  who  had  "finished  their  education," 
but  were  left  in  this  safe  asylum  till  their  relations 
could  see  some  possibility  of  establishing  them  in  life  ; 
the  single  women  of  all  ages  who  could  not,  with 
decorum,  live  elsewhere ;  the  young  married  ladies 
whose  husbands  were  away  on  military  service,  and  so 
on  through  an  inexhaustible  list  of  gradations.  The 
chances  of  falling  upon  congenial  company  were  thus 
obviously  considerable,  and  we  accordingly  find  that 
"convent  friendships,"  often  of  a  very  enduring  de- 
scription, play  a  large  part  in  the  memoirs  of  the 
day. 

Nor  were  pleasures  of  a  less  grave  cast  entirely 
lacking,  As  regards  the  nuns  themselves  their  share 
of  social  gaiety  would,  save  in  a  few  communities  of 


IN   CONVENT  WALLS  59 

the  worldly  and  not  over-respectable  class  already 
glanced  at,  be  limited  to  such  innocent  festivities  as  the 
ball  given  by  Madame  de  Genlis,  at  which  the  sisters 
danced  "gentlemen"  with  the  pupils  and  enjoyed 
themselves  immensely,  or  the  garden  fete  so  graphi- 
cally described  in  Madame  Roland's  memoirs,  where 
all  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell  till  the  convent 
doctor,  by  special  permission,  appeared  on  the  scene, 
and  spoiled  everything,  by  reviving  the  necessity  for 
decorous  behaviour !  But  for  adult  boarders,  and  even 
for  the  elder  schoolgirls,  a  good  deal  of  contact  with 
the  outer  world  was  possible.  There  was  practically 
no  limit  to  the  number  of  visitors  they  might  receive, 
though  where  these  were  of  the  wrong  sex  the  inter- 
view had  to  take  place  across  the  "parlour"  grating. 
But  that  this  was  no  bar  to  friendly  conversation,  nor 
even  to  a  certain  amount  of  lovemaking,  we  have 
sufficient  evidence.  It  was  through  the  grille  that 
the  mother  of  Madame  de  Genlis  first  made  acquaint- 
ance with  her  future  husband,  while  he  was  visiting 
his  mother,  then  a  fellow-boarder  in  the  convent  where 
she  herself  had  been  placed  by  her  relations  in  the 
vain  hope  that  she  might  be  induced  to  take  the  veil. 
Mademoiselle  de  Launay  (Madame  de  Staal)  had  at 
least  one  gentleman  friend  who  frequently  visited 
her  in  her  convent  at  Rouen  and  carried  on  a  fairly 
lively  flirtation  with  her  across  the  dividing  bars.  It 
was,  in  fact,  no  uncommon  thing  for  friendships  of  this 
kind  to  be  formed  in  the  first  instance  at  the  convent 
grate.  The  ordinary  parloir  was  a  long  room  divided 
down  the  middle  by  the  grille,  and  several  interviews 
often  took  place  at  the  same  time.  It  frequently 
happened  that  a  visitor  at  one  opening  would  become 
interested  in  the  conversation  being  carried  on  at 


60  A   STAR   OF  THE  SALONS 

another,  and  ask  his  interlocutor  for  an  introduction, 
and  vice  versa.  The  facilities  thus  afforded  for 
pleasant  and,  we  may  add,  innocent  flirtation  are 
obvious.  This  writer  can  testify  that  in  the  English 
ladies'  colleges  of  the  so-called  nineteenth  century, 
a  much  smaller  measure  of  hospitality  was  extended 
to  visitors  of  the  opposite  sex. 

During  the  daytime  the  pensionnaires  seem  to  have 
gone  in  and  out  pretty  much  as  they  liked,  children 
and  young  girls  specially  entrusted  to  the  charge  of 
the  convent  authorities  being  of  course  excepted. 
But  it  was  necessary  to  be  indoors  by  a  rather  early 
hour  in  the  evening  ;  this  at  the  Lyon  convent  being 
six  P.M.  That  this  rule,  however,  was  not  invariably 
enforced  is  plain  from  the  example  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Launay,  whose  patroness,  the  Duchesse  de  la 
Ferte",  used  often  to  take  her  out  of  her  convent  at 
Paris  for  the  day  and  bring  her  back  at  very  un- 
canonical  hours.  (The  Abbess  herself  sat  up  to  open 
the  doors  on  these  occasions,  lest  the  community 
should  be  scandalised.)  The  same  lady  tells  us  that 
during  her  stay  at  the  Rouen  convent  she  often  went 
to  visit  some  former  schoolfellows  living  near,  and 
was  usually  escorted  back  by  a  common  friend,  of 
the  masculine  persuasion,  w7ho  in  the  earlier  stages  of 
their  acquaintance  always  took  her  home  the  longest 
way,  but  later  showed  the  diminution  of  his  affection 
by  preferring  a  short  cut.  It  is  probable  that  this 
took  place  in  the  daytime  and  certain  that  the  dis- 
tance to  be  traversed  was,  even  at  its  longest,  a  short 
one.  But,  granting  all  this,  a  degree  of  freedom  is 
indicated  by  the  episode  which  compares  favourably 
with  modern  French  etiquette  as  applied  to  jeunes 
filles. 


IN    CONVENT  WALLS  61 

It  is  likely  enough  that  Julie  would  receive  a  certain 
number  of  invitations  from  old  acquaintances  made 
during  occasional  sojourns  at  Lyon  in  her  mother's 
lifetime,  and  especially  from  the  provincial  noblesse, 
who  came  there,  as  they  themselves  had  done,  for  a 
change  from  their  lonely  chateaux  ;  for  we  can  scarcely 
suppose  that  even  the  more  wealthy  among  the 
bourgeoisie  of  Lyon  (already  famed  for  the  silk- 
weaving  industry)  would  be  on  the  Comtesse  d'Albon's 
visiting-list.  It  is  plain,  however,  that  she  derived 
no  pleasure  from  any  hospitality  which  may  have 
been  shown  her  in  this  manner.  In  after  years  she 
cherished  an  intense  aversion,  dating  evidently  from 
this  period  of  her  career,  for  the  social  life  of  pro- 
vincial towns,  professing  to  find  it  far  less  supportable 
than  the  absolute  solitude  of  the  country.  "  I  quite 
agree  with  the  horror  you  express  for  a  provincial 
existence,"  she  writes  to  Guibert ;  "  but  the  provinces 
are  not  the  country.  I  would  rather  live  in  a  village, 
with  none  to  talk  to  but  the  peasants,  than  enjoy  the 
select  society  of  a  country  town."  In  the  particular 
case  of  Lyon,  her  antipathy  was  much  increased,  and 
perhaps  originally  produced,  by  the  notoriety  there 
attaching  to  the  miserable  story  of  her  birth.  It 
would  almost  seem  as  if  she  may  have  regretted 
the  rural  solitude  of  Champrond,  but  with  the  arrival 
of  spring  there  came  a  pleasant  interlude  in  her 
unpleasing  existence. 

Madame  du  Deffand,  finding  her  brother's  house 
intolerably  dull  when  Julie's  presence  was  withdrawn, 
had  remained  there  for  only  about  another  month — 
a  trifling  item  in  the  visits  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
She  went  no  further,  however,  than  the  town  of 
Ma^on,  where  she  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  winter 


62  A   STAR   OF   THE  SALONS 

at  the  house  of  a  friend,  and  in  the  month  of  April 
she  came  for  ten  days  to  Lyon.  Julie,  with  whom  she 
had  maintained  an  assiduous  correspondence,  was  the 
avowed  object  of  this  sojourn,  and  while  it  lasted  the' 
girl  spent  every  day  at  her  new  friend's  lodging, 
arriving  at  eleven  and  departing  at  six — these  be- 
ing apparently  the  limits  between  which  the  convent 
gates  remained  open.  On  one  of  these  days 
she  encountered  the  Archbishop  of  Lyon,  Cardinal 
de  Tencin,  who  had  come  to  pay  his  respects  to 
Madame  du  Deffand,  and  who,  at  this  last-named 
lady's  desire,  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Abbess  of  Julie's 
convent  requesting  that  this  pensionnaire,  in  whom 
he  was  specially  interested,  might  be  allowed  the 
luxury  of  a  room  to  herself.  As  patronage  was  then 
all-powerful  in  France  this  recommendation  was  com- 
plied with,  but  the  amelioration  thus  produced  in  the 
girl's  position  was  but  a  small  thing  compared  with 
the  sweeping  change  contemplated  by  Madame  du 
Deffand. 

The  project  which,  almost  from  the  first,  she  had 
vaguely  entertained  of  attaching  the  girl  in  some 
manner  to  herself  took  definite  shape  in  a  proposal 
that  she  should  come  to  live  with  her  as  a  companion. 
In  Julie's  position  this  was  a  most  attractive  offer, 
and  she  seems  to  have  been  at  first  almost  intoxicated 
at  the  prospect.  But  it  is  plain  that  some  qualms  of 
doubt  soon  supervened.  Her  past  experience  might 
well  make  her  shy  of  again  accepting  a  dependent 
position  of  this  sort,  and  though  Madame  du  Deffand 
had  been  very  kind  to  her  she  was  too  quickwitted 
not  to  have  noticed  signs  of  that  imperious  and  ex- 
acting temper  which  made  the  brilliant  Marquise  a 
difficult  person  to  live  with.  Still,  the  project  was 


CARDINAL  DE  TENCIN 

FROM    AN    ENGRAVING   AFTER   THE    PAINTING   IN   THE   MUSEE    DE   VERSAILLES 


IN    CONVENT   WALLS  63 

irresistibly  alluring  to  her  ;  and,  indeed,  what  else  was 
she  to  do  ? — continue  her  present  pinched  and  object- 
less existence,  or  return,  like  the  prodigal,  to  Cham- 
prond,  where  her  old  post  still  awaited  her  ?  We  can 
never  hope  to  understand  the  women  of  that  epoch 
unless  we  fully  realise  how  utterly  desperate  was  the 
position  of  all  those  who  had  not  enough  money  to 
live  upon  and  who  were  by  circumstances,  or  their  own 
reluctance,  debarred  from  the  two  spheres  already  par- 
ticularised— matrimony  and  "religion."  The  chance 
of  marriage  had  not  come  Julie's  way,  and  if  she  had 
ever  thought  of  being  &  nun  she  no  longer  regarded 
such  a  solution  of  the  problem  as  possible.  The 
thousand  devices  by  which  educated  women  now  eke 
out  a  scanty  income  were  then  literally  non-existent. 
There  certainly  were  cases  in  which  money  was  earned 
by  writing  plays  and  novels,  and  we  hear  of  one  lady 
who,  having  devoted  her  tiny  capital  to  acquiring  an 
imperfect  knowledge  of  English,  made  a  living  by 
translating  from  that  language.  But  for  openings  of 
this  sort  it  was  essential  to  be  in  Paris  and  to  have 
influential  patronage,  without  which  such  literature 
had  small  chance  of  a  sale.  Besides,  authorship  as  a 
profession  for  women  was  then  held  in  worse  repute 
than  the  stage  is  now  held  amongst  ourselves,  and 
apparently  with  more  reason.  Visiting  teaching  was 
almost  entirely  monopolised  by  men.  Manon  Phlipon, 
when  placed  in  much  the  same  situation  as  Julie,  did 
entertain  some  faint  hope  of  getting  pupils,  but  owned 
that  this  was  extremely  unlikely.  Painting  on  satin 
and  on  fans,  embroidery  and  suchlike  minor  arts  were 
regarded  as  possible,  though  very  doubtful,  resources 
by  many  impoverished  women.  But  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  does  not  appear  to  have  possessed  any 


64  A    STAR    OF   THE  SALONS 

accomplishments  of  this  kind.1  Her  sight  was  far 
from  strong,  a  circumstance  which,  combined  with  her 
love  of  reading,  may  have  prevented  her  from  acquir- 
ing the  manual  skill  necessary  for  such  occupations. 
In  great  families  ladies  were  sometimes  employed  as 
governesses  or  secretaries,  but  here  again  it  was 
necessary  to  have  interest,  and  situations  of  this  sort 
were  regarded  as  scarcely  one  remove  better  than 
domestic  service.  For  a  girl  in  Julie's  circumstances 
the  chances  were  all  against  obtaining  any  situation 
half  so  promising  as  that  offered  by  Madame  du 
Deffand.  Besides,  she  was  still  under  the  charm  of 
the  older  woman's  manner,  enhanced  by  gratitude 
for  the  kindness  shown  her  and  compassion  for  the 
terrible  affliction  so  courageously  endured.  Apart 
from  all  personal  considerations,  she  might  well  feel 
it  no  unworthy  lifework  to  devote  herself  to  brighten- 
ing an  existence  thus  shadowed.  Her  consent  was 
therefore  readily  given,  and  Madame  du  Deffand,  de- 
lighted with  this  reception  of  her  offer,  set  to  work 
with  a  Will  to  carry  the  project  into  execution.  Here, 
however,  she  was  to  encounter  difficulties,  partly  fore- 
seen, but  greater  probably  than  she  had  anticipated, 
and  the  negotiations  dragged  on  for  another  twelve- 
month before  being  finally  completed. 

1  We  never  hear  of  her  taking  up  any  of  the  various  kinds  of  fancy- 
work  in  vogue,  not  even  the  fashionable  mania  for  "  parfilage  "  (i.e.  un- 
picking epaulettes,  etc.,  stolen  from  male  friends,  for  the  sake  of  the  gold 
thread),  by  which  Madame  du  Deffand  was  carried  away.  In  her  portrait 
she  is  apparently  engaged  in  knotting,  a  very  popular  pursuit  for  ladies, 
but  this  may  be  due  to  the  painter's  fancy. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AN    OPENING    IN    LIFE 

"DEFORE  receiving  Julie  as  a  member  of  her 
*-)  household,  Madame  du  Deffand  considered  it  ad- 
visable to  obtain  the  consent  of  Camille  d'Albon,  who 
seems  to  have  claimed  the  rights,  while  neglecting 
the  duties,  of  guardianship  to  his  unacknowledged 
sister.  As  she  had  no  personal  acquaintance  with 
this  gentleman  she  confided  her  intention  to  a  friend 
of  the  family  resident  at  Lyon,  entreating  her  to  act  as 
intermediary.  This  lady  received  the  proposition  with 
a  coldness  tantamount  to  a  refusal.  Not  content  with 
assuming  a  neutral  attitude,  she  straightway  wrote 
to  the  de  Vichys  to  acquaint  them  with  the  scheme 
which  was  on  foot,  thereby  overwhelming  them  with 
consternation.  Madame  du  Deffand  had  scarcely 
returned  to  Mac,on  after  her  brief  stay  at  Lyon  when 
she  received  a  letter  from  Gaspard,  declaring  that 
he  would  never  consent  to  the  proposed  arrangement, 
and  violently  reproaching  his  sister  for  her  treachery, 
as  he  considered  it,  towards  himself.  His  attitude 
was  in  some  slight  measure  due  to  a  not  unnatural 
resentment  at  having  a  useful  member  of  his  house- 
hold, whom  he  and  his  wife  did  not  despair  of  re- 
covering, thus  spirited  away  by  the  very  person  who 
had  originally  volunteered  to  persuade  her  to  remain 
with  them.  But  a  far  more  powerful  factor  was  his 
old  fear  concerning  the  d'Albon  inheritance.  Once 
well  away  from  his  guardian  care,  and  safe  in  Paris, 
E  65 


66  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

the  headquarters  of  wire-pulling  and  patronage, 
what  might  not  this  brilliant  and  spirited  girl,  so 
eminently  calculated  to  win  friends,  be  able  to  effect 
in  the  way  of  asserting  her  claim  ?  No  doubt  he 
even  suspected  his  sister  of  designing  to  support  her 
new  protegee  as  against  the  rest  of  the  family.  Julie 
was,  after  all,  her  niece,  and  she  might  even  adopt  her 
(she  had  in  fact  sent  word  to  Camille  that  she  promised 
to  treat  her  as  a  daughter),  and  bequeath  to  her  the 
money  on  which  the  de  Vichys  securely  reckoned. 

It  is  very  likely  that  the  bond  of  relationship 
did,  as  M.  de  Segur  suggests,  count  for  something 
in  the  attraction  felt  by  the  childless  Marquise  for 
this  worse  than  orphaned  girl.  But,  whatever  may 
have  been  her  own  testamentary  intentions,  Gaspard 
was  quite  wrong  in  supposing  that  she  ever  thought 
of  embroiling  herself  with  him  and  the  d'Albons,  by 
supporting  any  claim  of  the  kind  just  alluded  to. 
She  had  been  prepared,  however,  for  his  attack,  and 
was  quite  equal  to  the  occasion.  She  replied  to  his 
charge  of  treachery  by  explaining  that  she  did  not 
recognise  any  right,  either  on  his  part  or  his  wife's, 
over  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  who  had  left  them  of  her 
own  free  will  and  was  certainly  bound  to  them  by  no 
tie  of  gratitude.  She  did  not  consider  their  consent 
in  any  way  necessary,  and  though  she  had  been  on 
the  point  of  writing  to  acquaint  them  with  the  con- 
templated move  (which  by  the  way  is  rather  doubtful), 
it  was  only  as  a  matter  of  politeness.  She  even 
hinted  that  their  fears  concerning  the  inheritance  were 
a  mere  pretext  to  cover  their  desire  to  be  revenged 
on  the  girl  for  not  having  sufficiently  appreciated 
the  happiness  of  a  home  under  their  roof.  She 
condescended,  however,  to  combat  their  anxiety  on  this 


AN    OPENING   IN    LIFE  67 

head,  arguing  that  it  would  be  really  in  their  interest 
to  get  Julie  away  from  Lyon,  where,  her  parentage 
(on  the  mother's  side  at  least)  being  well  known,  she 
was  more  likely  to  find  sympathisers.  At  Paris  she 
would  be  quite  out  of  her  bearings  and  Madame  du 
Deffand  undertook  to  keep  a  strict  watch  on  her 
goings  out  and  comings  in. 

These  representations  had  no  effect  upon  the  de 
Vichys,  who  continued  vehemently  to  oppose  the 
projected  arrangement.  Camille  d'Albon,  to  whom 
his  sister  had  written  direct  upon  the  failure  of  the 
first  attempt  to  treat  with  him,  was  equally  strenuous 
in  his  objections,  which  were  grounded  upon  a  similar 
apprehension.  No  decisive  step  could  be  taken  till 
Madame  du  Deffaud  had  finished  her  round  of  country 
visits  and  returned  to  Paris.  This  she  did  not  do 
till  October  of  the  same  year  (1753),  and  Julie  mean- 
while remained  in  her  convent ;  for,  though  she  had  a 
standing  invitation  to  Champrond  for  every  summer, 
it  is  scarcely  likely  that  she  availed  herself  of  it.  She 
had  ample  time  to  reflect  upon  the  project  which  had 
seemed  at  first  so  full  of  promise,  and,  though  she 
was  encouraged  in  it  by  the  aged  Cardinal  Arch- 
bishop (who  remained  her  friend  and  visited  her 
sometimes  at  the  convent  grate),  it  evidently  did  not 
gain  by  closer  contemplation.  She  wrote  to  Madame 
du  Deffand  confessing  that  the  thought  of  Paris 
alarmed  her.  She  was  well  accustomed  to  a  dreary 
life  of  isolation  and  dependence  in  the  lonely  country, 
but  would  not  the  same  isolation  and  dependence  be 
harder  to  bear  in  the  great  world,  and  amid  people 
enjoying  a  lot  far  different  from  her  own?  "  I  fear," 
she  wrote,  "that  I  might  become  so  depressed  that  I 
should  only  be  a  burden  to  you,  and  you  would  repent 


68  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

of  having  taken  me."  The  infinite  pathos  of  these 
words,  which  in  their  hopelessness  born  of  a  miserable 
experience  remind  us  of  Charlotte  Bronte,  had  a 
strong  effect  on  Madame  du  Deffand,  and  called  forth 
a  most  kind  and  sympathetic  reply.  Indeed,  if  we 
would  see  this  remarkable  woman  at  her  very  best, 
it  is  at  this  stage  of  the  relation  with  her  young 
protegee.  She  gently  rebukes  the  girl  for  supposing 
that  the  frankness  with  which  she  had  expressed 
herself  could  give  offence  ;  plain  speaking  on  both 
sides  was  of  all  things  most  to  be  desired.  Then 
she  proceeds  to  sketch  the  position  which  Julie  was 
to  hold  under  her  roof  in  terms  calculated  to  rob  it 
of  any  terror  on  the  score  of  neglect  or  slighting 
treatment : 

"  I  shall  not  tell  anyone  beforehand  that  you  are 
coming  to  me.  I  shall  tell  the  people  who  see  you 
at  the  beginning  that  you  are  a  young  lady  from 
my  own  province,  in  search  of  a  convent  in  which  to 
board,  and  that  I  have  offered  you  a  room  till  you 
can  look  round  and  find  what  will  suit  you.  When 
strangers  are  present,  I  shall  treat  you  not  only  with 
politeness  but  with  ceremony,  to  make  people  from 
the  first  understand  that  they  must  do  the  same.  I 
shall  only  explain  the  real  state  of  the  case  to  a  very 
few  friends,  and  after  three,  or  four,  or  five  months 
we  shall  both  know  how  we  suit  each  other,  and  we 
can  then  be  franker  with  the  world  about  our  in- 
tentions. I  shall  take  good  care  all  along  not  to 
appear  to  be  trying  to  force  you  upon  people ;  what 
I  intend  to  do  is  to  make  people  anxious  to  have  you, 
and  if  you  know  me  you  will  have  no  fear  that  your 
self-respect  will  suffer  in  my  hands.  .But  you  must 
trust  to  my  knowledge  of  the  world.  If  people  knew 


AN   OPENING   IN   LIFE  69 

om  the  first  that  you  were  come  to  live  with  me 
for  good,  I  could  not  be  sure  (even  were  I  a  much 
greater  lady  than  I  am)  of  getting  them  to  treat  you 
as  I  should  wish.  Some  might  think  you  were  my 
own  daughter,  others  a  mere  humble  companion, 
and  unpleasant  things  might  be  said.  The  essential 
thing  is  to ,  begirT  by  establishing  your  position  on 
the  strength  of  your  own  merits,  and  this  you  will  do 
easily  with  my  help  and  that  of  my  friends,  but  you 
must  make  up  your  mind  to  encounter  some  difficulties 
at  the  beginning.  .  .  .  You  have  plenty  of  brains, 
you  can  be  lively,  and  you  are  not  wanting  in  feeling. 
With  all  these  good  gifts  you  will  be  charming,  if 
you  only  allow  yourself  to  be  natural." 

This  letter  must  have  done  a  good  deal  towards 
overcoming  Julie's  reluctance.  But  the  opposition  of 
her  family  had  some  weight  with  her,  and  she  had 
determined  to  settle  the  matter  by  forcing  a  decisive 
explanation  with  the  Comte  d'Albon  who  was  shortly 
expected  at  Lyon.  If  he  would  guarantee  her  a 
sufficient  allowance  to  live  upon  in  comfort  she  would 
give  up  the  Paris  project ;  if  not,  she  reserved  the 
right  of  doing  what  she  pleased.  Madame  du  DefTand, 
though  this  plan  was  contrary  to  her  own  wishes,  en- 
couraged her  in  it  by  saying  that  the  whole  world 
would  cry  shame  upon  Camille  if  he  refused  her 
request  for  a  pension.  Yet  this  was  exactly  what 
he  did.  His  conduct,  doubtless  admits  of  some  pal- 
liation. During  his  father's  lifetime,  as  M.  de  Se"gur 
tells  us,  he  did  not  enter  into  full  possession  of  the 
d'Albon  estate,  and  he  had  recently  married  for  love, 
a  laudable  proceeding,  but  one  which  does  not  incline 
a  man  to  generosity  towards  his  own  family.  Yet, 
making  all  allowance  for  these  extenuating  circum- 


70  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

stances,  we  cannot  feel  that  his  conduct  in  this  matter 
says  much  for  either  his  sense  of  justice  or  the  good- 
ness of  his  heart.  The  interview  between  the  brother 
and  sister  was  evidently  of  a  most  painful  nature. 
While  finally  crushing  Julie's  hopes  of  any  pecuniary 
resistance,  the  Count  exerted  all  his  supposed  authority 
to  prevent  her  from  seeking  a  home  with  Madame 
du  Deffand.1  No  doubt,  he  told  her  that  it  was  very 
wicked  and  discontented  of  her  not  to  be  able  to  get 
on  with  the  de  Vichys,  and  that  if  she  would  not  live 
with  them  she  must  make  the  most  of  her  thirteen 
pounds  a  year,  which  was  quite  a  comfortable  income 
for  a  single  woman.  Endearing  speeches  of  this  sort 
have  from  time  immemorial  been  recognised  as  the 
peculiar  prerogative  of  relationship,  but  it  is  plain  that 
Julie  did  not  take  them  well.  Her  affectionate  con- 
fidence in  the  playfellow  of  happier  days  long  gone  had 
hitherto  maintained  itself  in  the  face  of  every  species 
of  discouragement,  but  it  gave  way  now  and  for  ever. 
"  I  ought  by  right  to  receive  assistance  from  the 
d'Albons,"  she  wrote,  shortly  before  her  death,  in 
her  last  will  and  testament,  "not  as  a  benefaction, 
but  in  restitution  for  the  trust-money  of  which  M. 
d'Albon  robbed  me  on  the  death  of  my  mother  and 
his,"  and  these  words  accurately  indicate  the  light  in 
which  this  once  beloved  brother  henceforth  appeared 
to  her.  It  is  infinitely  to  her  credit  that  she  never 
at  any  time  contemplated  the  form  of  revenge  which 
would  have  been  most  felt  by  Camille — an  assertion, 
namely,  of  her  much-dreaded  hereditary  claim.  It  is 
true  that  Madame  du  Deffand,  rather  frightened  by 

1  We  may  surmise  that  he  did  not  counsel  her  in  favour  of  a  husband 
or  the  veil,  since  either  step  would  have  involved  the  paying  down  on  his 
part  of  the  6000  francs  left  for  those  purposes. 


AN    OPENING   IN  LIFE  71 

the  hysterical  protests  of  her  family,  had  taken  the 
precaution  of  repeatedly  requiring  her  solemnly  and 
wholly  to  abjure  any  such  claim  before  coming  to 
Paris,  desiring  her  on  one  occasion  to  formulate  this 
renunciation  in  a  letter  which  could  thus  be  shown 
"in  case  of  need."  Yet  Madame  du  Deffand,  at  the 
very  time  when  she  was  exacting  these  pledges,  was 
writing  to  her  aunt  and  adviser,  Madame  de  Luynes : 
"  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  flatter  myself  that  any 
reason  of  friendship,  gratitude,  or  fear  could  prevent 
her  from  asserting  her  claim,  if  there  was  any  possi- 
bility of  doing  so,  but  as  there  is  none  "  (owing  to  the 
surveillance  which  her  patroness  was  to  exercise  over 
her),  "and  as  she  has  plenty  of  brains,  I  quite  believe 
that  she  will  make  no  such  attempt."  So  much  did 
her  ingrained  cynicism  mislead  her  as  to  the  true 
character  of  this  girl  whom,  nevertheless,  she  regarded 
with  a  degree  of  affection  unusual  with  her.  During 
the  first  year  of  her  residence  in  Paris,  Julie  may  have 
have  been  as  helpless  as  is  here  predicted,  but  when 
she  had  become  one  of  the  social  powers  of  the  great 
metropolis,  and  was  surrounded  by  troops  of  influential 
friends,  we  know  that  she  remained  equally  faithful  to 
her  plighted  word.  She  herself  said,  long  after,  that 
she  was  far  from  deserving  the  praises  which  had  been 
lavished  on  her  for  this  self-abnegation.  The  sacrifice 
had  been  made  mainly  to  her  mother's  reputation,  and 
had  not  cost  her  much.  We  may,  indeed,  conjecture 
that  one  cause  for  her  hatred  of  Lyon  was  the 
number  of  gossiping,  though  doubtless  half-sympa- 
thetic, comments  on  "that  dear  and  honoured 
memory "  to  which  she  had  been  forced  to  listen, 
coupled,  perhaps,  with  well-meant  exhortations  to 
stand  up  for  her  rights.  She  may  well  have  rejoiced 


72  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

at  the  prospect  of  never  hearing  the  matter  men- 
tioned more. 

Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  was  naturally  no 
longer  inclined  to  consider  as  binding  her  brother's 

o  o 

prohibition  on  the  subject  of  Madame  du  Deffand,1 
and  she  rejoiced  the  heart  of  that  lady  by  an 
unqualified  assent.  There  was  still  need,  however, 
of  some  diplomacy  to  frustrate  the  counter-intrigues 
of  the  de  Vichys,  and  Madame  du  Deffand,  while 
writing  to  beg  that  Cardinal  de  Tencin  would  ar- 
range for  Julie's  journey  to  Paris,  judged  it  prudent 
to  advise  her  not  to  impart  her  purpose  to  anyone 
at  Lyon  till  the  very  day  of  setting  out.  The 
good-natured  Archbishop  presently  discovered  a  very 
suitable  escort,  in  the  Solicitor-General  of  Lyon,  who, 
accompanied  by  his  wife,  was  going  on  an  expedition 
to  the  capital  immediately  after  Easter.  To  their 
charge  he  confided  the  young  girl,  and  towards  the 
end  of  April,  1754,  she  started  on  her  way  in  a  state 
of  excitement  which  is  not  difficult  to  imagine,  and 
which,  we  may  easily  believe,  was  mainly  of  a 
pleasurable  kind. 

It  was  her  first  long  journey,  and  it  was  made  by 
diligence,  a  circumstance  indicating  that  the  worthy 
solicitor  had  not  too  much  money  to  throw  away. 
Duclos,  in  his  memoirs,  laments  the  degenerate  luxury 
into  which  the  age  had  sunk,  as  exemplified  by  the 
sinfully  extravagant  fashion  of  travelling  by  post- 
chaise.  In  his  young  days  (he  was  born  in  1704) 
everyone  travelled  by  public  coaches  (such  as  the 

1  She  was  then  twenty-one  years  old,  having  been  born  in  November, 
1732,  while  the  interview  with  Canaille  took  place  in  February  or  March, 
1754  j  except  in  Normandy,  however,  twenty-five  was  the  legal  age  of 
majority,  but  this  had  reference  rather  to  property  than  to  liberty  of  the 
person. 


AN   OPENING   IN  LIFE  73 

Lyon-Paris  diligence),  now  even  junior  officers,  were 
ashamed  to  be  seen  in  them  !  The  post-chaise  sys- 
tem was  certainly  not  adapted  to  small  incomes  if  we 
may  judge  by  the  experience  of  Arthur  Young,  who 
reckoned  the  cost  for  a  party  of  two  at  about  one 
shilling  per  English  mile,  in  which  estimate  inn-charges 
are,  however,  included.  There  were  other  methods  of 
travelling,  the  most  chic  of  which  was  of  course  to  take 
your  own  carriage,  generally  with  post-horses.  At  the 
opposite  end  of  the  scale  came  what  was  known  as 
the  messagerie — i.e.  parcels  post  or  carriers'  cart — which 
was  cheaper  even  than  the  diligence,  a  homely  mode  of 
conveyance  to  which  King  Stanilaus  of  Poland  himself, 
according  to  Duclos,  on  one  occasion  condescended. 
Nor  must  we  forget  the  litter  in  which  Madame 
de  Neuillant  was  borne  from  Niort  to  Paris  (a  cen- 
tury before  Julie's  journey  thither),  while  her  niece, 
Frangoise  d'Aubigne,  rode,  postillion  fashion,  on  one 
of  the  two  mules  which  supported  it  behind  and 
before,  and  thus  made  her  first  entry  into  the  great 
city,  where,  as  Madame  de  Maintenon,  she  was  to 
become  virtually  Queen  of  France.  This  primitive 
vehicle  had  by  no  means  entirely  disappeared.  We 
find  it  used  about  the  year  1730,  in  a  country  district, 
by  Cardinal  de  Tencin  himself,  and  Marmontel,  more 
than  ten  years  later,  travelled  from  Toulouse  to  Paris 
by  a  similar  method.  It  was  esteemed  an  easier 
conveyance,  especially  on  bad  roads,  than  the  jolting 
wheeled  carriage  of  the  day,  but  Marmontel  assures 
us  that  he  would  much  have  preferred  travelling  by 
messagerie,  "on  a  good  horse  in  the  open-air,"  from 
which  we  gather  that  he  would  have  ridden,  like 
Mademoiselle  d" Aubigne",  on  one  of  the  horses  drawing 
the  carrier's  cart.  The  swaying  of  the  litter  had,  he 


74  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

says,  a  tendency  to  produce  sickness,  especially  if 
you  sat  on  the  front  seat ;  for  the  vehicle  in  this  case 
held  two.  The  journey  by  messagerie  would  have 
cost  exactly  the  same — 120  francs  ;  for,  though  the 
litter  was  more  expensive,  his  travelling  companion, 
a  comparatively  rich  young  man,  bore  the  lion's  share 
of  the  charges,  indemnifying  himself  by  the  process 
which  in  modern  masculine  parlance  is  known  as 
"putting  on  side."  The  terms  included  food,  which 
the  honest  muleteer  with  whom  they  had  contracted 
provided  in  most  generous  fashion,  feasting  them  on 
"red  partridges,  turkeys  and  truffles."  We  may 
mention  here  the  case  of  another  celebrated  person, 
the  Abbe  Morellet,  who,  in  1741,  made  his  first 
journey  to  Paris,  starting  from  the  same  neighbour- 
hood as  Julie,  mainly  by  river  and  canal.  He  was 
furnished  from  home  with  a  supply  of  provisions,  of 
which  the  boatmen,  far  different  from  Marmontel's 
muleteer,  contrived  to  defraud  him. 

Young,  generally  so  exact  in  noting  what  he  paid 
for  everything  en  route  has  unluckily  omitted  to  men- 
tion the  cost  of  travelling  by  diligence.  But  concerning 
the  attractions  offered  by  that  mode  of  progression  he 
expresses  himself  with  no  uncertain  voice.  "This  is 
the  first  French  diligence  I  have  been  in,  and  shall  be 
the  last  ;  they  are  detestable."1  His  travelling  com- 
panions on  this  occasion,  Calais  to  Paris  (1789),  seem 
to  have  been  six  in  number,  and  of  both  sexes.  He 
complains  that  they  were  very  noisy,  stunned  him 
with  perpetual  singing,  played  cards  and  cheated  over 
them.  They  comprised  two  foreign  merchants  and  a 

1  Note  that  this  was  written  after  the  reforms  effected  by  Turgot  in  the 
construction  of  public  coaches.  When  Julie  de  Lespinasse  made  her 
journey  the  diligences  must  have  been  considerably  more  "detestable." 


AN   OPENING   IN  LIFE  75 

French  governess  returning  from  Ireland,  persons  of 
sufficiently  respectable  standing,  but  contemptuously 
classed  by  him  among  "the  rabble  which  are  some- 
times met  in  diligences."  Sometimes,  it  seems,  they 
travelled  on  through  the  night,  and  sometimes  stopped 
to  sleep,  and  his  views  on  the  French  inns  of  that 
period  are  of  much  interest.  "On  an  average,"  he 
says,  "they  are  better  in  two  respects  and  worse  in 
all  the  rest,  than  those  in  England."  The  first  point 
of  superiority  was  in  the  important  matter  of  the  com- 
missariat, which  was  much  better  than  could  have 
been  got  for  the  same  money  in  England. 

"The  common  cookery  of  the  French  gives  great 
advantage.  It  is  true  they  roast  everything  to  a  chip 
if  they  are  not  cautioned  :  but  they  give  such  a  number 
and  variety  of  dishes,  that  if  you  do  not  like  some, 
there  are  others  to  please  your  palate.  The  dessert 
at  a  French  inn  has  no  rival  at  an  English  one ;  nor 
are  the  liqueurs  to  be  despised.  We  sometimes  have 
met  with  bad  wine,  but,  upon  the  whole,  far  better 
than  such  port  as  English  inns  give.  Beds  are  better 
in  France  ;  in  England  they  are  good  only  at  good 
inns  ;  and  we  have  none  of  that  torment,  which  is  so 
perplexing  in  England,  to  have  the  sheets  aired ;  for 
we  never  trouble  our  heads  about  them,  doubtless  on 
account  of  the  climate.  After  these  two  points  all  is 
a  blank,  you  have  no  parlour  to  eat  in  ;  only  a  room 
with  two,  three,  or  four  beds.  Apartments  badly 
fitted  up ;  the  walls  whitewashed ;  or  paper  of 
different  sorts  in  the  same  room  ;  or  tapestry  so  old 
as  to  be  a  fit  nidus  for  moths  and  spiders ;  and  the 
furniture  such  that  an  English  innkeeper  would 
light  his  fire  with  it.  .  .  .  Bells  there  are  none ; 
the  fille  must  always  be  bawled  for ;  and  when 


76  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

she  appears,  is  neither  neat,  well-dressed,  nor  hand- 
some." 

Fortified  with  these  picturesque  details  we  have  no 
great  difficulty  in  reconstructing  that  momentous 
journey  of  our  heroine's.  Young  travelled  the  dis- 
tance from  Lyon  to  Paris,  which  he  reckons  at  300 
English  miles,  in  six  days,  or  about  the  number 
of  hours  in  which  it  can  now  be  traversed  by  rail. 
The  excellent  Arthur  indulged  himself  on  this  occa- 
sion in  the  extra  expense  of  a  post-chaise,  but  as  he 
stopped  by  the  way  to  view  all  objects  of  interest 
which  presented  themselves  it  is  probable  that  he 
would  have  got  over  the  ground  quicker  by  coach,1  for 
on  the  journey  from  Calais  to  Paris  above  alluded  to, 
the  diligence  covered  78  miles  the  first  day,  and  102 
in  the  following  day  and  night.  Julie  was  requested 
by  Madame  du  Deffand  to  write  to  her  from  Chalons 
that  she  might  know  what  day  to  expect  her  arrival. 
At  the  coach  office  she  would  no  doubt  find  her 
employer's  carriage  awaiting  her,  and  we  may  suppose 
that  either  Mademoiselle  Devreux,  that  lady's  con- 
fidential maid,  or  Wiart,  her  secretary,  who  seems  to 
have  been  regarded  merely  in  the  light  of  an  upper 
servant,  was  sent  to  take  charge  of  the  bewildered 
country  girl,  and  her  (presumably  scanty)  effects. 
One  would  gladly  know  her  impressions  during  her 
first  drive  through  the  narrow,  crowded,  noisy  streets 
of  Paris.  It  ended  in  the  Rue  St  Dominique,  on  the 
left  side  of  the  river,  at  the  spot  now  occupied  by  the 
buildings  of  the  Ministry  of  War,  but  then  by  the 
Convent  of  St  Joseph,  where  Madame  du  Deffand  had 
for  some  time  rented  an  apartment.  That  the  weary 

1  Before  Target's  reforms,  above-mentioned,  the  diligences  were  said  to 
travel  nearly  as  slowly  again. 


AN    OPENING   IN   LIFE  77 

traveller  had  a  kind  reception  there  can  be  no  manner 
of  doubt.  Only  a  few  days  before  the  Marquise  had 
written:  "Pack  up  your  boxes,  my  love,  and  come 
and  be  the  happiness  and  consolation  of  my  life.  It 
shall  be  not  my  fault  if  I  do  not  do  the  same  by  you." 
The  sympathising  spectator  may  well  feel  saddened 
by  reflecting  on  the  ultimate  outcome  of  this  friendship 
begun  under  auspices  apparently  the  most  promising. 


CHAPTER   VII 
"THE  FLAUNTING  TOWN" 

IT  must  not  be  supposed  that  Madame  du 
Deffand's  position  in  regard  to  the  Convent  of 
St  Joseph  had  any  analogy  with  that  of  the  inside 
boarders  who  have  been  mentioned  in  a  former 
chapter.  It  was  very  usual  for  religious  houses  to 
let  out  a  part  of  their  building  to  tenants  of  both 
sexes,  who  were  bound  by  no  regulations  of  any  kind, 
had  no  dealings  with  the  sisters  in  the  interior,  kept 
their  own  servants,  entertained  their  friends,  and  went 
in  and  out  as  they  pleased  all  through  the  day  and 
night.  The  Convent  had  a  large  amount  of  accom- 
modation available  for  inmates  of  this  sort,  and  among 
their  number  we  find,  at  one  time  or  another,  the  names 
of  several  fairly  distinguished  persons,  not  all  of  them 
remarkable  for  saintliness  of  demeanour,  nor  even 
all  belonging  to  one  sex  ;  for  example,  Mademoiselle 
Clairon,  the  celebrated  actress,  Charles  Edward  the 
Pretender,  and,  in  the  previous  century,  Madame 
de  Montespan,  who  was,  in  truth,  the  pious  foundress 
of  the  community.  The  apartment  which  this  last- 
named  lady  had  in  her  lifetime  reserved  for  herself 
was  the  one  now  occupied  by  Madame  du  Deffand, 
and  was  situated  in  a  wing  apart  from  the  convent 
proper  surrounding  a  separate  courtyard  provided 
with  an  entrance  of  its  own,  so  that  the  sacred  cloture 
of  the  sisters  might  be  in  no  way  interfered  with. 
In  this  pleasant  and  far  from  austere  retreat,  the 

78 


THE   FLAUNTING   TOWN  79 

Marquise  had  established  herself,  as  it  proved,  for  the 
rest  of  her  life.  Since  her  husband's  death,  her 
revenue  from  various  sources  amounted  to  about 
37,000  francs,  or  over  ^1600,  an  income  which 
to  most  of  us  does  not,  I  suspect,  even  in  these 
days,  appear  wholly  contemptible,  and  which  was 
then  equivalent  to  a  much  larger  sum.  She  could 
afford,  as  the  cant  phrase  goes,  "to  live  her  own 
life,"  and  this  life,  though  in  essentials  perfectly 
irreproachable  (for  even  Henault  had  now  ceased  to 
be  more  than  a  friend),  was  of  as  unconventional  a 
description  as  we  can  well  imagine.  For  a  girl  of 
Julie's  upbringing  it  must  have  been  indeed  a  strange 
existence  which  she  was  called  upon  to  share,  an 
existence  bewildering,  dazzling,  in  some  respects  irk- 
some, in  others  wholly  delightful.  We  can  imagine 
nothing  quite  like  it  in  our  own  day,  and  even  then  it 
was  considered  in  some  respects  unique.  Madame 
du  Deffand  had  always  regarded  solitude  and  the 
company  of  her  own  thoughts  as  among  the  greatest 
of  earthly  ills,  and  in  this  mental  attitude  she  was  still 
further  confirmed  by  her  increasing  blindness.  To 
this  last-named  cause,  and  to  her  habit  of  insomnia 
(then  as  now  very  frequent  in  fashionable  circles),  may 
doubtless  be  traced  the  extraordinary  mania  which  led 
her  literally  to  turn  night  into  day.  For  her  the  day 
commenced  regularly  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the 
hour  at  which  she  first  quitted  her  bedroom.  Then 
began  the  stream  of  visitors,  including  all  the  most 
brilliant  and  interesting  persons  in  Paris,  some  of 
whom  will  frequently  appear  in  these  pages.  If  the 
mistress  of  the  house  had  no  engagement  out  of  doors, 
this  reception  went  on  till  long  after  midnight,  but 
often  she  went  out  to  supper  at  the  houses  of  friends 


8o  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

in  Paris  or  in  the  suburbs,  or  earlier  in  the  evening 
to  the  theatre.  Play  and  opera  then  began  at  six  P.M., 
or  before,  and  were  over  at  eight  or  soon  after,  well 
before  the  time  of  the  evening  meal,  which  was  often 
later  than  nine.  It  was  the  favourite  repast  of 
Madame  du  Deffand,  who,  as  a  natural  result  of  her 
noctivagant  habits,  eschewed  the  midday  dinners 
which  were  a  fashionable  form  of  entertainment  in 
some  circles.  When  she  was  not  invited  out  to 
supper,  or  more  properly,  perhaps,  when  she  did  not 
care  to  accept  an  invitation,  she  always  entertained  a 
few  friends  round  her  own  hospitable  board,  and  once 
a  week,  on  a  stated  day,  gave  a  banquet  on  a  larger 
scale,  which  held  a  respectable  place  among  the  social 
fixtures  of  the  period.  When,  on  evenings  at  home, 
the  last  guest  had  departed,  or  when  she  had  returned 
from  her  gaieties  abroad,  the  hour  being  in  both  cases 
about  two  or  three  A.M.,  it  was  still  too  early  to  think  of 
bed,  and  through  the  rest  of  the  night  she  had  to  find 
amusement  as  she  could,  by  her  own  solitary  fireside. 
This  curious  life  was  shared  in  all  its  fullness  by 
Julie  de  Lespinasse,  for  Madame  du  Deffand  abode 
most  honourably  by  her  undertaking  that  the  girl 
should  rank  as  a  real  companion,  and  not  as  an 
upper-grade  menial.  She  was~nbt  primarily  engaged 
even  as  a  secretary.1  That  office  belonged  of  right 
to  Wiart,  the  majordomo  already  mentioned,  an 
honest  and  devoted  retainer,  who  never  dreamt  of 
considering  himself  a  gentleman.  It  is  certain  that 
Julie  did  frequently  write  and  read  Madame  du 
Deffand's  letters  to  and  from  intimate  friends,  but 

1  Madame  du  Deffand  sometimes  wrote  her  own  letters  with  the  help 
of  an  apparatus  contrived  for  keeping  the  lines  straight.  The  writing 
was  large,  but  quite  legible. 


<  a 

a  « 


a  g 

O     K 


•<    S    fc 

M    S    > 


THE   FLAUNTING   TOWN  81 

this  seems  to  have  arisen  naturally  from  the  circum- 
stance that  they  were  friends  to  her  as  well  as  to  her 
patroness,  and  that  communication  could  thus  on  both 
sides  be  carried  on  with  greater  ease  and  freedom 
than  through  the  medium  of  a  social  inferior.  Read- 
ing aloud  may  have  been  to  some  extent  part  of  the 
agreement,  since  after  Julie  had  quitted  St  Joseph 
we  find  her  place  supplied  by  a  lectrice  en  litre.  It 
was  resorted  to  mainly  as  a  means  of  passing  the 
hours  between  the  return  home  of  Madame  du 
Deffand,  or  the  departure  of  her  guests,  and  the 
time  when  she  thought  herself  likely  to  sleep.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  this  service  was  felt  by  the  girl  as 
a  heavy  burden,  though  we  may  hope  that  she  was 
sometimes  allowed  to  go  to  bed  before  her  patroness, 
especially  when  some  heroic  exertion  in  the  matter 
of  early  rising  was  required  of  her  that  same  morn- 
ing. For  example,  in  a  letter  written  to  Madame 
du  Deffand,  then  away  in  the  country,  she  observes 
that  as  it  is  now  after  i  A.M.  she  had  better  not  sit 
up  any  longer,  since  she  must  go  to  church  the 
following  day  (Sunday),  and  also  intends  to  take  a 
bath.  A  Saturday  half  holiday  of  this  kind  may 
perhaps  have  been  a  fairly  usual  institution,  for  the 
Marquise  herself  had  now  begun  to  attend  Mass 
regularly  as  an  essential  factor  in  the  respectable 
life. 

On  ordinary  occasions  the  working  day  did  not  be- 
gin before  six  P.M.,  the  hour  of  Madame  du  Deffand's 
first  appearance.  The  initial  difficulty  of  sleeping  in 
the  daytime  being  once  overcome,  Julie  would  thus 
have  sufficient  leisure  for  repose,  and,  under  the 
guardianship  of  some  trusted  friends  of  the  house, 
might  even  take  exercise,  as  exercise  was  then 


82  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

understood  by  Parisian  ladies,  in  one  or  other  of 
the  public  gardens.  Of  these  the  Tuileries  and 
the  Palais  Royal  were  the  most  fashionable,  the 
Luxembourg  being  favoured  rather  by  the  bour- 
geoisie, and  the  Jardin  du  Roi,  now  the  Botanical 
Garden,  by  such  eccentric  persons  as  preferred  fresh 
air  and  quiet  to  the  joys  of  seeing  and  being  seen. 
Sunset  was  the  correct  hour  for  the  promenade,  and 
the  programme  was  to  drive  as  far  as  the  gates 
(walking  in  the  streets  being  indeed  well-nigh  an 
impossibility),  and  then  to  alight  from  your  carriage 
and  walk  with  your  party  up  and  down  under  the 
trees,  sometimes  completely  blocking  up  the  pathway, 
which  was  only  guaranteed  to  hold  four  crinolines 
abreast.  It  was  a  recognised  opportunity  for  meeting 
one's  friends,  male  as  well  as  female,  and  there  was 
much  exchanging  of  greetings,  and  stopping  for  a 
minute  to  talk,  or  joining  other  parties,  and  when 
the  weather  was  warm  enough  the  benches 1  were 
filled  with  rows  of  well-dressed  people,  chatting  at 
their  ease,  and  criticising  the  costumes  of  those  who 
continued  walking.  Two  or  three  times  we  find 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  enjoying  this  exhilarat- 
ing recreation,  and  as  she  was  in  some  respects  very 
much  of  her  century  it  was  probably  sufficient  to 
satisfy  her  demands  in  the  matter  of  air  and  exercise. 
The  real  work  of  the  day  began,  as  we  have  seen,  at 
six  P.M.  and  continued  all  night  and  every  night,  for 
Julie  almost  from  the  first  seems  to  have  been  in- 
cluded in  invitations  to  Madame  du  Deffand.  That 
lady's  prediction  that  people  would  soon  be  glad  to 

1  Up  to  1760  wooden  benches  were  the  only  seats,  but  in  that  year 
some  thousands  of  chairs,  to  be  hired,  were  introduced,  and  the  benches 
came  to  be  considered  low. 


THE   FLAUNTING  TOWN  83 

have  her  for  her  own  sake  was  abundantly  verified, 
and  it  is  but  just  to  the  older  woman  to  say  that  she 
did  all  in  her  power  to  promote  this  state  of  things. 
We  are  thus  brought  face  to  face  with  the  common- 
place consideration  that  the  thirteen  pounds  a  year, 
which  probably  sufficed  to  cover  her  personal  expenses 
at  the  chateau  of  Champrond,  would  be  quite  inade- 
quate for  that  purpose  when  she  was  mixing  daily  in 
society,  often  of  a  very  distinguished  kind.  Susanne 
Curchod,  at  the  very  outset  of  that  visit  to  the  French 
capital  which  was  to  result  happily  in  her  marriage 
with  Necker,  had  to  expend  more  than  that  sum 
before  she  could  pass  muster  in  a  Parisian  drawing- 
room,  and  even  Rousseau's  The"rese,  the  ex-kitchen- 
maid,  who  was  certainly  not  overwhelmed  with  social 
obligations,  found  it  impossible  to  keep  her  dress 
allowance  for  the  year  within  a  similar  figure.  We 
do  not  know  for  certain  whether  Julie  received  a 
salary  for  her  services  at  St  Joseph.  In  her  abortive 
attempt  at  negotiation  with  Camille  d'Albon,  Madame 
du  Deffand  had  spoken  vaguely  of  settling  a  life 
annuity  of  400  francs  yearly  upon  his  sister.  This 
offer  is  not  again,  in  so  many  words,  referred  to, 
but  in  July,  1754,  or  less  than  three  months  after  the 
arrival  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  in  Paris,  we 
find  a  contract  drawn  up  by  which  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  undertakes  to  pay  her  692  francs  an- 
nually for  the  rest  of  her  life.  It  does  not  by 
any  means  necessarily  follow  that  this  was  a  gift 
from  the  Duke's  private  purse.  It  was  quite  usual 
for  men  in  his  position  to  undertake  the  payment 
of  life-annuities  as  a  matter  of  speculation,  and  the 
capital  may  have  been  supplied  by  Madame  du  Deffand, 
who  in  that  case  was  generous  beyond  her  first  inten- 


84  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

tions.  The  bestowal  of  such  annuities  was  a  very 
common  factor  in  the  relations  between  employers 
and  employed.  They  were  frequently  conferred  upon 
servants  of  long  standing,  and  the  ex-tutor  or  governess 
in  a  wealthy  house  had  almost  a  prescriptive  right  to 
receive  one  when  his  or  her  pupils  were  grown  up. 
And  it  must  certainly  be  admitted  that  this  last-named 
custom  compares  not  unfavourably  with  those  current 
amongst  our  own  present-day  aristocracy  who,  in  such 
cases,  are  wont  to  be  rather1  excessively  liberal  of  their 
recommendations  but  not  generally  of  recognition  in 
any  more  substantial  form. 

Julie's  yearly  spending  money  would  thus  amount 
to  about  forty-three  pounds,  and  as  a  circumstance  in 
her  favour  we  must  not  omit  to  notice  that  she  had 
already  won  the  affection  of  that  important  personage 
Mademoiselle  Devreux,  who  had  accompanied  her  mis- 
tress on  the  visit  to  Champrond.  The  friendship  of  an 
experienced  lady's  maid  is  no  despicable  advantage 
where  new  dresses  are  to  be  bought  or  old  ones  to 
be  arranged  with  a  view  to  combining  elegance  and 
economy,  and  we  can  easily  believe  that  the  young 
girl  thus  supported  deserved  even  then  the  reputation 
attaching  to  her  in  her  later  years  of  being  ever 
dressed  gracefully  and  becomingly  though  with 
simplicity.  She  was  one  of  those  persons  who  repay 
careful  dressing,  for  her  figure  was  singularly  graceful, 
and  her  face,  though  by  her  own  admission  never 
regularly  pretty,  might  at  this  early  period  of  her  life 
fairly  be  called  charming.  The  portrait  by  Carmon- 

1  The  writer  knows  a  case  in  which  a  girls'  school  was  started  with  a 
list  of  flourishing  references  to  the  aristocratic  parents  of  former  pupils. 
In  a  few  years  the  school  changed  hands,  but  the  list  of  references  still 
continued  to  be  advertised. 


THE   FLAUNTING  TOWN  85 

telle  shows  her  as  she  was  while  still  in  the  bloom 
of  youth  and  before  that  dire  disease  by  which  one 
woman  in  every  four  was  then  permanently  disfigured 
had  set  its  mark  upon  her.  We  notice  that  her  cheeks 
are  but  slightly  touched  with  rouge,  and  that  her  black 
taffetas  gown,  though  it  would  scarcely  satisfy  a  dress 
reformer,  by  no  means  reduces  her  figure  to  the  sylph- 
like  proportions  which  we  admire  in  many  ladies  of 
that  period,  notably  in  Madame  de  Genlis,  who,  how- 
ever, must  be  allowed  the  credit  of  preaching,  if  she 
did  not  practise,  the  principles  of  hygiene.  Her  dark 
brown  hair,  concealed,  according  to  the  universal  cus- 
tom, beneath  a  layer  of  powder,  is  arranged  in  one  of 
those  pleasing  and  unexaggerated  coiffures  obtaining 
at  this  time  and  succeeded  about  1770  by  the  towering 
erections  which  made  kneeling  on  the  carriage  floor 
compulsory  for  ladies  in  full  dress.  Her  eyes  are  large 
and  dark,  and  the  "  tip-tilted  "  nose  imparts  a  certain 
shade  of  piquancy  to  her  thoughtful  and  intelligent 
face.  f\\ 

The  special  charm  of  her  appearance  lay,  however, 
as  all  eye-witnesses  agree,  in  expression- — a  kind  of 
charm  which  no  picture  can  at  all  adequately  convey. 

"Though  not  actually  beautiful,  you  are  distin- 
guished-looking, and  attract  attention,"  wrote  the 
gallant  old  President  H6nault. 

"What  I  shall  say  of  your  appearance  is  only  what 
seems  to  strike  everybody,"  wrote  the  cold  and  reserved 
d'Alembert,  "that  your  whole  bearing  is  most  graceful 
and  distinguished  and  that  you  have  much  mind  and 
expression  in  all  your  features,  things  far  preferable 
to  mere  soulless  beauty." 

"  That  which  pre-eminently  distinguished  her,"  wrote 
her  faithless  lover,  Guibert,  ' '  was  that  supreme  charm 


86  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

without  which  beauty  can  only  attain  to  mere  lifeless 
perfection,  namely  expression.  Hers  had  no  particular 
characteristic,  it  combined  them  all,  so  that  you  could 
not  precisely  say  that  it  was  either  witty,  or  lively,  or 
sweet,  or  dignified,  or  humorous  or  gracious." 

But  the  admiration  attracted  by  Julie's  appearance 
was  slight  compared  with  that  bestowed  on  her 
manners  and  conversation.  This  exquisite  circle,  in 
which  was  comprised  the  fine  flower  of  Parisian 
intellect  and  breeding,  could  not  sufficiently  express 
their  astonishment  at  the  ease  with  which  the  young 
rustic,  as  though  to  the  manner  born,  at  once  became 
one  of  themselves. 

%  "  You  have  discovered  the  world's  ways  by  intuition," 
says  H£nault ;  "it  would  make  no  difference  if  you 
were  transplanted,  you  would  take  root  anywhere,  you 
would  peep  through  a  grating  at  Madrid,  wear  your 
scarf  awry  in  London"  (this  is  rather  cruel!)  "and 
tell  the  grand  Turk  at  Constantinople  that  your  feet 
were  free  from  dust "  (supposed  to  be  an  Oriental 
form  of  greeting). 

D'Alembert,  whose  early  education  enabled  him 
better  than  the  President  to  understand  the  difficulties 
surmounted  by  Julie,  is  even  more  emphatic  in  his 
testimony  on  this  point. 

"  The  perfection  of  your  manners  might  not  be 
remarkable  in  a  woman  born  in  Court  circles,  but  in 
your  case  it  deserves  the  utmost  admiration.  You 
brought  it  with  you  from  the  depths  of  the  provinces, 
where  you  had  never  met  anyone  who  could  have 
imparted  it  to  you.  You  were  as  perfect  on  this 
point  the  day  after  your  arrival  in  Paris  as  you  are 
to-day  [1771].  From  the  first  day  you  were  as 
natural  and  as  much  at  ease  in  the  most  brilliant  and 


THE   FLAUNTING  TOWN  87 

most  exclusive  circles,  as  if  you  had  passed  your  life 
amongst  them.  ...  In  short,  you  intuitively  divined 
the  language  of  what  is  called  good  society" 

The  intellectual  powers  which  lay  behind  this 
marvellous  social  charm  we  shall  have  abundant 
opportunities  of  estimating  in  the  course  of  this  record. 
Meanwhile  we  may  linger  for  a  moment  to  glance  at 
the  brilliant  company  who  thronged  the  salon  at  St 
Joseph,  that  charming  room  with  the  silken  hangings 
of  light  gold  blended  with  flame  colour.  Dainty  minia- 
ture sofas  and  luxurious  easy-chairs  were  lavishly 
provided,  and  all  about  were  scattered  tiny  tables 
littered  with  the  latest  publications,  including  even 
the  prohibited  pamphlets  of  Voltaire.  The  stream 
of  easy  and  polished  talk  flowed  continuously,  now 
upon  art  and  literature,  and  now  upon  the  most  recent 
spicy  anecdote  from  Versailles,  now  upon  the  canons 
of  Biblical  criticism,  and  now  upon  the  voice  and 
character  of  a  debutante  at  the  opera.  The  un- 
questioned queen  of  the  assembly  and%  conversation, 
to  whom  all  bowed  in  deference,  was  the  little  pale, 
fragile  woman,  with  the  biting  wit  and  the  ready 
imperious  tongue  and  the  sightless  eyes  which,  such 
was  the  acuteness  of  her  other  senses,  seemed  almost 
to  see  as  in  time  past.  Yet  nearly  an  equal  measure 
of  attention,  though  after  a  less  submissive  sort,  was 
bestowed  on  the  graceful,  self-possessed  girl  who 
moved  and  spoke  as  if  born  to  supply  what  was  want- 
ing in  the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  to  perform  all 
the  duties  rendered  impossible  to  her  by  her  infirmity. 
And  Madame  du  Deffand  was  well  pleased  that  it 
should  be  so,  for  the  evil  days  of  jealous  tyranny  on 
one  side,  and  smouldering  resentment  on  the  other, 
lay  as  yet  in  the  far  distance,  and  her  attitude  towards 


88  A   STAR   OF   THE    SALONS 

this  marvellous  ugly  duckling  was  marked  by  all  the 
triumph  of  a  successful  discoverer,  mingled  with  a 
touch  of  feeling  more  nearly  approaching  to  the 
maternal  instinct  than  she  ever  showed  at  any  other 
period  of  her  existence  ;  while  Julie  on  her  part  felt 
something  of  that  ecstasy  of  joyful  gratitude  experi- 
enced by  her  prototype  when  his  bitter  pilgrimage 
had  ended  in  a  fair  haven,  and  the  swans  hailed  him 
as  one  of  their  number. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

NEW    FRIENDS 

AMONG  those  frequenters  of  Madame  du  Deffand's 
salon  who  were  especially  distinguished  by  their 
admiration  for   Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  the  first 
place,  in  right  alike  of  age  and  position,  is  due  to 
President  Renault.     The  connection  of  earlier  days 
entitled  him  to  a  kind  of  brevet  rank  as  master  of 
the  house,  and  he  seems  to  have  fulfilled  the  duties 
of  that  station  with  much  ability  and  helpfulness.      It 
was  mainly  through  his   introductions  that   Madame 
du  Deffand  had  made  good  her  social  footing,  and 
gathered  around  her  her  present  circle  of  distinguished 
friends.      In    domestic   matters   he  was   equally   her 
stand-by.       It   was    to   him    that   she    entrusted   the 
important  charge  of  selecting  a  cook  for  her  establish- 
ment at  St  Joseph,  and  in   this  confidence  she  was 
well  justified,  for   Renault  was  universally  admitted 
to  be  a  past  master  in  the  art  of  supper-giving,  and 
prided  himself  highly  on  his  skill  therein.     "  How  I 
should  like  to  order  you  a  supper  in  my  very  best 
style,  and  to  think  that  you  would  enjoy  it,"  is  his 
effusion  of  sentiment  on  hearing  that  his  lady,  then 
absent  at   Forges,   found  her  appetite  improved  by 
taking  the  waters.     But  it  would  appear  that  after- 
wards, on  one  occasion  at  least,  Madame  du  Deffand, 
possibly  from  motives  of  economy,  rashly  attempted 
to  engage  a  cook  for  herself,  and  that  the  result  was 
a   lamentable   demonstration    of    the    superiority   of 
89 


90  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

masculine  rule.  "He  has  better  intentions  than1 
Madame  de  Brinvilliers,"  groaned  Henault,  on  whose 
digestion  the  creations  of  this  inferior  artist  had  an 
unfavourable  effect,  "but  that's  all  the  difference 
there  is  between  the  two  ! " 

The  president's  affection  was  shown  in  a  yet 
more  effectual  fashion  by  an  annuity  of  6000  francs, 
which  during  many  years  he  secretly  paid  to  Madame 
du  Deffand.  Through  his  influence  at  Court  another 
6000  francs  yearly  was  procured  for  her  from  the 
royal  treasury.  It  is  certainly  not  surprising  that 
Henault  should  have  been  the  fetich,  or,  as  Horace 
Walpole  puts  it,  "  the  pagod,"  of  the  salon  at  St  Joseph. 

"The  president  is  very  near  deaf,"  writes  Walpole 
spitefully,  "and  much  nearer  superannuated.  He 
sits  by  the  table :  the  mistress  of  the  house,  who 
formerly  was  his,  inquires  after  every  dish  on  the 
table,  is  told  who  has  eaten  of  which,  and  then  bawls 
the  bill  of  fare  of  every  individual  into  the  president's 
ears.  In  short,  every  mouthful  is  proclaimed,  and  so 
is  every  blunder  I  make  against  grammar.  Some  that 
I  make  on  purpose,  succeed ;  and  one  of  them  is  to 
be  reported  to  the  queen  to-day  by  Henault,  who 
is  her  great  favourite." 

This  appalling  description,  calculated  to  awaken  a 
sympathetic  thrill  in  all  who  have  had  experience  of 
the  inexhaustible  curiosity  proper  to  the  aged  deaf, 
and  the  painful  results  which  attend  it,  dates,  be  it 
observed,  from  1/65,  eleven  years  later  than  Julie's 
arrival  in  Paris.  At  that  comparatively  early  epoch 
the  president  was  only  sixty-nine,1  and  his  deafness 
had  not  yet  assumed  the  colossal  proportions  indicated 

1  The  notorious  poisoner  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV. 
1  He  was  born  in  1685. 


LE   PRESIDENT   RENAULT 

FKOM    A    DRAWING   IN    THE   BIBLIOTHEQUE   NATIONALE 


NEW   FRIENDS  91 

by  Walpole.  He  was  still  an  exceedingly  charming 
old  man,  sustaining  with  all  grace  and  decorum  the 
tradition  of  a  youth  famed  for  its  gallantries.  His 
American-sounding  title,  conferred  on  him  at  the  age 
of  twenty-five,  has  in  its  actual  signification  (President 
of  the  First  Court  of  Appeal *)  something  which  we  find 
difficulty  in  harmonising  with  the  life  and  character 
of  its  possessor.  His  gay  and  brilliant  personality 
has  more  affinity  with  that  of  the  "Judge"  who 
courted  Maud  Miiller  in  the  sunny  hayfield,  and  drew 
smiles  from  the  lawyers  by  humming  an  old  love-tune 
in  court,  than  with  our  insular  conception  of  the 
judicial  office  and  its  bearers.  Like  other  legal 
luminaries  of  his  day,  He"nault  contrived  to  devote 
an  enormous  proportion  of  his  time  to  society,  an 
achievement  due,  we  may  assume,  not  so  much  to  the 
greater  versatility  of  that  generation  as  to  their 
comparative  disregard  for  professional  claims.  He 
was  not  of  noble  birth,  but  his  charming  manners, 
combined  with  certain  minute  literary  pretensions, 
soon  procured  him  the  entree  into  the  most  exclusive 
circles,  and  won  him  favour  alike  at  the  profligate 
Court  of  the  Regent  and  in  the  sober  household  of 
Queen  Marie  Leczinska. 

To  do  him  justice,  he  made  himself  not  less  agree- 
able in  his  domestic  than  in  his  social  relations.  An 
affectionate  and  attentive,  though  far  from  faithful, 
husband  he  was  blindly  adored  by  a  submissive  wife 
— their  married  life,  in  fact,  going  near  to  realise  that 
masculine  ideal  of  a  perfect  union  which  has  been  so 
much  admired  in  Fielding's  "Amelia" — with  this 
acceptable  distinction,  that  they  had  plenty  of  money, 
and  Madame  H^nault  was  not  obliged  to  save  six- 

1  "  President  de  la  Premiere  Chambre  des  Enqu6tes." 


92  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

pences  from  her  own  supper  while  the  president  was 
expending  guineas  in  card-playing  and  other  less 
mentionable  pursuits.  In  the  quasi  -  matrimonial 
alliance  which  followed  his  wife's  death  He"nault 
was  unfailing  in  kindness  and  loyalty  to  a  singularly 
unloving  and  unsympathetic  woman.  Their  curious 
correspondence  of  1742,  occasioned  by  the  above- 
mentioned  visit  to  Forges,  shows  how  often  she 
must  have  irritated  even  his  easy  temper,  and  disap- 
pointed his  very  moderate  expectations  in  the  matter 
of  sentiment.  Her  letters  show  that  preoccupation 
with  her  owju/eelings  and  t-Viqt  indifference  to  the 
feelings  of  everybody  else 


her,  while  Henault.  on  his  part,  is  full  of  so1iritiid.llr>r 
her  health  and  well-bfiing)  nr»H  -inV:^'  TM1T  "RTrn^rm^^f 
trouble  most  commendable  in  a  busy  man  to  keep 
her  acquainted  with  every  scrap  of  news  by  which 
she  might  be  amused  or  interested.  Something  like 
a  quarrel  seems  at  one  time  imminent. 

"Your  letters  are  charming;  in  fact,  you  are  a 
most  delightful  person  to  live  away  from,"  she 
writes,  to  which  ambiguous  compliment  he  replies 
with  a  flash  of  unmistakable  anger.  "You  never  said 

O 

a  truer  word,  but  it  is  not  always  wise  to  tell  the 
whole  truth.  I  believe  in  my  heart  that_jf 


life  as  you  pleased,  the  part  of  absent 
friend  would  be  the  one  always  allotted  to  me.  .  .  . 
Why  can't  you  say  at  once,  '  I  feel  or  rather  I  see  that 
you  have  been  doing  your  best  for  ten  years  to  win 
my  affection,  but  I  promise  you,  you  never  will  '  ?  .  .  . 
As  for  what  you  say  about  the  falling-off  in  your 
looks,  I  could  reply  that  that  would  never  make 
any  difference  in  my  feelings.  Much  you  would  care 
whether  it  did  !  I  laugh  at  my  own  presumption  in 


NEW   FRIENDS  93 

thinking  such  a  thing.  But  the  real  fact  is,  I  am 
quite  certain  that  the  waters  will  on  the  contrary,  in 
the  long  run,  much  improve  your  appearance.  Other- 
wise I  should  not  mention  the  subject,  feeling  that  it 
would  be  a  liberty  in  me  to  do  so." 

But  the  president  was  far  too  useful  a  friend  to  be 
lightly  parted  with,  and  the  astute  Marquise  soon 
managed  to  bring  him  back  to  his  normal  attitude 
of  amused  and  serviceable  toleration.  His  brilliant 
companion  had  become  to  him,  in  his  own  words, 
"a  necessary  evil,"  and  the  bond  between  them  was 
only  severed  by  death,  but  he  was  perfectly  conscious 
that  she  made  no  appeal  to  the  deeper  feelings  of  his 
nature.  These  were  reserved  for  Madame  de  Castel- 
moron,  a  lady  who  has  no  part  in  this  story,  and 
for  his  own  family  (he  had  no  children,  but  was  an 
excellent  uncle).  Some  measure  of  them,  too,  he 
bestowed  on  the  young  girl  who,  for  all  her  tact  and 
self-possession,  brought  into  the  salon  of  Madame  du 
Deffand  a  capacity  for  enthusiasm,  nay,  for  passion, 
widely  at  variance  with  the  character  of  its  mistress. 
He  was  exceedingly  struck  by  Julie  de  Lespinasse, 
and  we  may  be  sure  that  she  always  accompanied  her 
patroness  to  those  admirable  suppers  at  his  artistically 
furnished  house  in  the  Rue  St  Honore.  We  may  be 
equally  sure  that  in  her  appreciation  of  his  hospitality 
she  did  not  fall  into  the  mistake  committed  by 
Voltaire,1  whose  complimentary  couplet  was  never 
forgiven  by  the  president,  of  undervaluing  his  magnum 
opus,  the  famous,  "Abre'ge"  Chronologique."  If  we 
are  to  believe  contemporary  gossip,  He"nault's  affection 

1  "  Renault,  famous  for  your  suppers, 
And  for  your  Chronology." 

Renault  considered  the  juxtaposition  a  slight  on  his  "Chronology." 


94  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

for  Julie  went  the  length  of  an  offer  of  marriage,  but 
it  is  more  probable  that  if  he  ever  entertained  such 
a  project  he  had  the  good  sense  to  relinquish  it 
without  a  formal  declaration.  Some  passages  in  his 
"Portrait"  of  her — already  alluded  to — seem,  as 
M.  de  Segur  acutely  observes,  to  bear  out  this  conjec- 
ture. "Your  heart  is  not  easily  won,"  he  writes.  .  .  . 
There  is  something  of  a  challenge  about  you.  A 
man  might  well  be  proud  of  turning  your  head,  but  in 
most  cases  he  would  have  his  trouble  for  nothing." 

No  one  certainly  was  less  likely  than  Julie  de 
Lespinasse  to  entertain  the  idea  of  a  mercenary 
marriage  with  a  man  thirty-seven  years  her  senior, 
and  the  president's  perception  of  this  fact  increased 
his  respect  for  her  and  did  not  diminish  the  half- 
paternal  affection  which  survived  even  her  rupture 
with  Madame  du  Deffand. 

A  less  frequent  but  highly  esteemed  guest  at  St 
Joseph  was  the  Chevalier  d'Aydie,  whose  manners 
were  held  by  his  contemporaries  to  represent  the  last 
word  of  perfection,  and  whose  letters  in  effect  leave 
upon  the  mind  an  impression  of  finished  and  rather 
melancholy  grace.  Like  Henault,  he  had  figured  at 
the  Court  of  the  Regent  and  had  behind  him  the 
memory  of  a  stormy  youth,  but  there  the  resemblance 
between  the  two  men  ceases.  Passion,  sin,  repent- 
ance, expiation,  sacrifice,  words  which,  when  applied 
to  the  genial  president,  seem  absolutely  without  mean- 
ing, are  fundamentally  implicated  in  any  conception 
of  the  Chevalier's  character,  and  this  superior  capacity 
for  both  right  and  wrong  doing  lifts  him  at  once  to 
a  different  moral  level.  To  the  modern  world  he  is 
best  known  as  the  lover  of  Mademoiselle  Aisse,  the  most 
pathetic  and  appealing  figure  in  the  long  procession 


NEW  FRIENDS  95 

of  eighteenth-century  women.  Born  of  Circassian 
parents,  she  was  purchased  in  the  slave-market  at 
Constantinople  by  M.  de  Ferriol,  then  French 
Ambassador  to  Turkey,  who  sent  her  over  to  Paris 
and  placed  her  in  charge  of  his  brother's  wife,  a 
worthy  sister  of  the  notorious  Madame  de  Tencin. 
Whether  his  ultimate  intentions  with  regard  to  the 
fair  child,  then  three  or  four  years  old,  were  of  an 
entirely  blameless  nature  may  well  be  matter  for 
doubt,  but  in  the  end  he  chose  the  better  part  by  re- 
solving to  consider  her  only  as  his  adopted  daughter. 
Ai'sse  (Haidee)  received  what  was  then  considered  a 
most  superior  education,  and  in  due  time  was  intro- 
duced into  society  of  a  distinguished  but  not  over- 
reputable  description.  She  had  grown  up  beautiful, 
intelligent,  and  winning,  with  a  certain  lilylike  charm 
which  contrasted  piquantly  with  her  environment. 
Like  her  friend,  Madame  du  Deffand,  she  had  the 
honour  of  attracting  the  Duke  of  Orleans  himself, 
but  with  a  different  result — for,  whether  from  her 
convent  training  or  from  innate  rectitude,  the  girl  was 
virtuously  minded,  and  for  once  the  Regent  sighed  in 
vain. 

In  those  social  circles  in  which  Ai'sse  moved  the 
Chevalier  d'Aydie  was  a  prominent  and  popular 
figure.  They  fell  in  love,  the  love  of  a  lifetime,  but 
the  Chevalier  was  a  Knight  of  Malta,  and  as  such 
vowed  to  celibacy.  It  is  true  that  from  vows  of 
this  kind  there  was  no  great  difficulty  in  obtaining 
a  dispensation,  but  to  procure  this  he  must  have 
resigned  the  prebends  from  which,  as  an  almost  por- 
tionless younger  son,  he  derived  the  principal  part 
of  his  income.  He  had  accustomed  himself  to  look 
upon  marriage,  except  with  an  heiress,  as  impossible, 


- 


96  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

and  Aisse  had  only  an  annuity  of  4000  francs, 
bequeathed  her  by  her  guardian,  M.  de  Ferriol,  who 
had  now  passed  away.  That  such  a  love-story, 
at  such  an  epoch  and  in  such  surroundings,  should 
end  in  disaster  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  The 
points  which  differentiate  this  story  from  a  thousand 
others  are  these  two  :  that  the  bitterness  of  her  shame, 
though  hidden  from  the  world,  was  sufficient  to  kill 
the  woman,  and  that  the  man  devoted  the  rest  of  his 
life  to  making  such  reparation  as  was  still  possible. 

In  her  hour  of  need  Ai'sse  was  loyally  and  effectually 
befriended  by  Bolingbroke's  second  wife,  formerly 
Marquise  de  Villette,  the  cousin  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon.  Under  pretence  of  taking  the  girl  with  her 
on  a  visit  to  England,  she  concealed  her  in  a  remote 
quarter  of  Paris,  and  when  her  child  was  born  found 
a  safe  asylum  for  it  in  the  convent  presided  over  by 
Madame  de  Villette,  the  daughter  of  Lady  Boling- 
broke's first  marriage.  In  view  of  the  character  borne 
by  Madame  de  Ferriol  herself,  and  by  most  of  the 
ladies  of  her  entourage,  we  are  half  inclined  to  wonder 
that  such  secrecy  should  have  been  considered  neces- 
sary, but  the  moral  code  of  the  day  was  less  lenient  in 
regard  to  single  than  to  married  women,  as  is  demon- 
strated by  that  curious  rule  of  Court  etiquette  which, 
in  the  interests  of  decorum,  required  that  a  king's 
mistress  should  be  doubly,  instead  of  singly,  an  adul- 
teress. But  though  thus  shielded  from  the  world's 
censures  Aisse  could  not  recover  from  the  shame  of 
having  lived  for  a  time  a  double  life  and  the  anguish 
of  separation  from  her  child  whom  she  could  only  visit 
by  stealth.  Her  health  gave  way,  and  she  faded 
slowly  to  the  grave.  In  vain  the  Chevalier,  his  better 
nature  aroused  by  the  sight  of  her  suffering,  determined 


NEW   FRIENDS  97 

manfully  to  brave  the  risks  of  poverty,  and  implored 
her  with  importunity  to  become  his  wife.  With  a 
humility  almost  shocking  to  our  modern  feeling,  she 
declared  that  she  was  unworthy  of  such  an  alliance, 
and  that  nothing  would  induce  her  so  to  injure  his 
career.  Besides,  the  renunciation  of  his  benefices 
would  mean  that  there  would  be  less  possibility  of 
saving  money  for  the  child,  who,  though  knowing  her 
father  not  at  all,  and  her  mother  only  as  a  kind  lady 
who  came  sometimes  to  see  her,  was  now  the  principal 
object  in  life  to  both. 

When  Ai'sse,  soothed  by  the  consolations  of  religion 
and  the  remorseful  tenderness  of  her  lover,  had  passed 
tranquilly  away  from  the  world  which  had  never,  she 
said,  afforded  her  a  single  moment's  happiness,  the 
Chevalier  d'Aydie  seemed  to  grow  into  another  fashion 
of  man.  His  youthful  follies  fell  from  him,  and  the 
remainder  of  his  life  appears  to  have  justly  merited 
the  character,  attributed  to  him  by  Voltaire,  of  a 
Bayard  sans  peitr  et  sans  reproche.  He  turned  his 
back  decisively  on  the  gay  metropolis,  the  scene  of 
his  frivolities  and  dissipations,  and  went  to  live  in  the 
country,  taking  with  him  openly  the  little  girl,  who  had 
hitherto  lived  happily  enough  under  the  care  of  the 
good-natured  nuns.  He  presented  her  as  his  daughter 
to  his  family  and  friends,  who,  from  respect  to  him, 
received  her  on  the  footing  of  legitimacy,  and  devoted 
himself  henceforth  to  her  happiness.  By  exercising 
strict  self-denial,  he  was  able  to  marry  her,  with  a  re- 
spectable dowry,  to  a  neighbour  in  every  way  eligible, 
and  she  lived  a  prosperous  and  honoured  life,  and 
has  left  descendants  who  still  boast  of  their  beautiful 
ancestress  Aisse. 

From  motives,  doubtless,  of  economy,  the  Chevalier, 


98  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

with  the  exception  of  an  occasional  visit  to  Paris, 
spent  the  rest  of  his  days  at  the  old  family  chateau  in 
Perigord.  This  patriarchal  existence,  representing  the 
best  side  of  French  country  life,  is  thus  gaily  described 
by  him  in  a  letter  to  Madame  du  Deffand  : 

"  I  have  better  employment  than  reading,  madame. 
I  hunt  and  play  games  and  amuse  myself  from  morning 
to  night  with  my  brothers  and  our  children,  and  I 
must  frankly  say  that  I  have  never  been  more  happy 
nor  better  pleased  with  my  company." 

Yet  it  is  plain  that  he  often  regretted  the  stimulating 
intellectual  atmosphere  of  the  capital. 

"When  I  think  of  you,  madame,"  he  writes,  "and 
of  the  circle  which  you  have  gathered  round  you,  I 
resent  being  a  hundred  leagues  from  you.  For  I 
have  neither  Caesar's  vanity  nor  his  ambition.  I  had 
rather  be  admitted  on  suffrance  into  good  company 
than  be  the  most  important  person  in  indifferent. 
Still,  if  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  in  the  first-mentioned 
position  here,  I  can  at  least  assure  you  that  I  am  not 
in  the  second." 

Shortly  after  the  arrival  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse  at 
St  Joseph,  the  Chevalier,  then  more  than  sixty  years 
old,  made  her  acquaintance,  during  one  of  his  periodical 
sojourns  in  Paris,  and  was  from  the  first  strongly 
attracted  by  her.  In  the  respectful  tenderness  with 
which  he  regarded  her  there  mingled  perhaps  some 
thought  of  his  own  daughter  and  of  the  far  different 
lot  which  had  fallen  to  this  much-wronged  girl  born 
under  conditions  very  similar. 

"  Heaven  owed  you  the  consolation  which  you 
receive  from  the  attentions  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse,"  he  writes  to  Madame  du  Deffand  after 
his  return  into  Perigord.  "...  She  supplies  the 


NEW   FRIENDS  99 

place  of  your  lost  sight,  and  what  you  value  still  more 
madame,  she  affords  you  an  object  for  your  affections. 
I  am  proud  of  having  from  the  first  appreciated  her  as 
she  deserves,  and  I  beg  you  not  to  let  her  altogether 
forget  me." 

Madame  du  Deffand  replies  : 

"Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  is  deeply  gratified  by 
the  charming  things  you  say  of  her.  When  you  know 
more  of  her,  you  will  see  how  well  she  deserves  them. 
Every  day  I  am  more  pleased  with  her." 

Equally  generous  is  her  attitude  with  regard  to 
another  old  friend,  of  her  own  sex  this  time,  who  fell 
with  the  same  rapidity  under  the  charm  of  her  pro- 
tegee. This  was  the  Marechale  de  Luxembourg,  best 
known  perhaps  for  her  protection  of  Jean- Jacques 
Rousseau.  She  too,  as  Duchesse  de  Boufflers,  had 
had  a  place  in  the  Chronique  Scandaleuse  of  the 
Regency,  and  had  chosen  the  same  method  of  reform 
as  Madame  du  Deffand,  by  entering  into  a  semi- 
matrimonial  connection  with  a  person  of  distinction 
and  repute.  In  her  case,  however,  this  curious  kind 
of  alliance  was  legitimatised,  on  the  death  of  her  first 
husband,  by  a  real  marriage,  and  as  Duchesse  de 
Luxembourg  she  held  a  position  in  society  due  even 
more  to  her  talents  than  to  her  rank.  Her  beauty, 
once  remarkable,  is  said  by  some  of  her  contempor- 
aries to  have  declined  prematurely ;  according  to 
others  she  retained  a  large  share  of  it  till  late  in  life, 
but  all  are  agreed  concerning  the  singular  charm  of 
her  manner — so  perfect  as  always  to  appear  unstudied 
—and  the  remarkable  acuteness  of  her  judgment.  On 
all  those  questions  of  good  taste  and  good  form  which 
to  that  generation  ranked  among  the  most  important 
matters  in  life  she  was  gifted  with  an  intuition  almost 


ioo  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

resembling  inspiration,  and  from  her  opinion  on  such 
points  there  was  no  appeal.  She  was  the  unques- 
tioned arbiter,  not  only  of  elegances,  but,  what  is 
rather  more  surprising,  of  decorums,  the  unrivalled 
exponent  and  upholder  of  that  marvellous  code  of 
breeding  concerning  which  Madame  de  Genlis  said 
that,  if  it  had  only  rested  upon  realities,  the  Age  of 
Gold  must  have  flourished  in  Paris.  The  slightest 

O 

taint  of  vulgarity  was  anathema  to  her,  and  the  offen- 
ders, whatever  their  rank  or  importance,  trembled  like 
schoolchildren  in  disgrace  before  the  scathing  power  of 
her  sarcasm.  One  Sunday,  when  she  and  a  number 
of  other  great  ladies  assembled  at  the  Prince  de 

o 

Conti's  country  house  were  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
their  host  before  adjourning  to  the  chapel  to  hear 
Mass,  she  whiled  away  the  time  by  looking  over  the 
various  books  of  devotion  with  which  her  companions 
had  armed  themselves,  and  gave  utterance  to  some 
severe  criticisms  upon  the  flagrant  errors  of  taste 
abounding  in  these  pious  volumes.  One  lady  timidly 
ventured  upon  the  stock  defence  that  the  Almighty 
looks  not  to  the  language,  but  to  the  intention  of  a 
prayer.  "  Don't  you  ever  believe  that,  madame," 
answered  the  Marechale  very  seriously.  There  is 
something  fine  about  this  aesthetic  intolerance  which 
reminds  us  of  Matthew  Arnold  and  his  contention  that 
the  Deity  is  "disserved  and  displeased"  by  such  a 
hymn  as  the  once  popular : 

"  My  Jesus  to  know,  and  to  feel  His  blood  flow." 

It  was  probably  the  perception  of  a  somewhat 
similar  quality  of  refined  fastidiousness  in  Julie  de 
Lespinasse  which  first  attracted  her  to  the  young  girl, 
and  the  chivalrous  instinct,  never  wanting  in  genuinely 


NEW   FRIENDS  101 

well-bred  persons,  led  her  to  show  it  even  greater 
honour  than  she  would  have  done  in  the  case  of  some- 
one more  richly  endowed  with  the  gifts  of  fortune. 
The  Luxembourg  family  had  a  charming  country  villa 
near  the  little  town  of  Montmorenci,  three  leagues 
from  Paris.  The  whole  neighbourhood,  says  Grimm, 
was  a  kind  of  garden  famous  for  its  fruits,  especially 
its  cherries  ;  the  chateau  and  its  surrounding  park  are 
described  in  glowing  terms  by  Rousseau,  to  whom  the 
Duke  had  assigned  a  small  pavilion  in  the  grounds, 
to  occupy  when  the  fancy  took  him.  An  invitation  to 
Montmorenci  was  esteemed  a  high  honour,  much  sought 
after  in  the  fashionable  world  and  conceded  to  few, 
but  Julie  was  from  the  first  asked  to  accompany 
Madame  du  Deffand  in  her  visits  to  the  chateau,  and 
treated  as  a  guest  whom  the  heads  of  the  house  de- 
lighted to  honour.  It  was  here  that,  at  a  somewhat 
later  date,  she  made  the  acquaintance  of  Jean-Jacques, 
whose  democratic  misanthropy  was  not  proof  against 
the  perfect  breeding  and  the  genuine  kindness  of  the 
Mare'chale  and  her  husband.  Like  Carlyle,  he  much 
preferred  the  "  effete  "  aristocracy  to  the  middle  classes, 
and  perhaps,  if  the  truth  were  told,  even  to  the  virtuous 
peasants  who  loom  so  large  in  his  writings. 

No  sketch  of  Madame  du  Deffand's  circle  can  be 
esteemed  complete  without  some  mention  of  Pont  de 
Veyle,  one  of  her  oldest  and  most  constant  friends. 
He  was  the  son  of  that  Madame  de  Ferriol  to  whose 
charge  Aisse"  had  been  confided  by  her  brother-in-law, 
and  seems  to  have  always  entertained  a  brotherly 
feeling  for  the  fair  and  ill-fated  Circassian.  That  his 
lifelong  intimacy  with  Madame  du  Deffand,  which  to- 
wards the  end  was  slightly  endangered  by  his  devel- 
oping an  irritating  habit  of  coughing,  had  nothing  of 


102  A   STAR   OF   THE  SALONS 

a  romantic  nature  about  it  may  be  gathered  from 
the  fireside  scene  dramatically  described  by  Grimm. 
"  Pont  de  Veyle  ?  "  "  Madame  ?  "  "  Where  are  you  ?  " 
"At  the  corner  of  the  fire."  "Are  you  lounging 
comfortably  with  your  feet  on  the  fender,  as  one 
should  do  in  a  friend's  house?"  "Yes,  madame." 
"There's  no  doubt  that  there  are  few  friendships  of 
as  long  standing  as  ours."  "  That's  quite  true." 
"  Fifty  years,  isn't  it  ?  "  "  Yes,  more  than  fifty  years." 
"And  not  the  slightest  misunderstanding  in  all  that 
time?"  "No,  I  have  always  been  surprised  at  that 
myself."  "  But,  Pont  de  Veyle,  isn't  that  just  because, 
in  our  hearts,  we  have  never  cared  a  straw  for  each 
other?"  "  That's  quite  possible,  madame." 

But  if  not  remarkable  for  warmth  of  feeling,  Pont 
de  Veyle  had  a  liberal  share  of  the  social  talents  which 
almost  above  everything  else  contributed  to  make  a 
man's  reputation.  Walpole,  indeed,  who  seldom  says 
a  good  word  for  any  member  of  his  own  sex,  states 
that  Pondevelle  (so  he  elects  to  spell  the  name)  "  can 
be  very  agreeable  but  seldom  is.  ...  He  has  not  the 
least  idea  of  cheerfulness  in  conversation,  seldom 
speaks  but  on  grave  subjects,  and  not  often  on  them. 
.  .  .  .  His  air  and  look  are  cold  and  forbidding." 
But  even  Walpole  grudgingly  admits  his  "  very  amus- 
ing talent "  for  writing  and  singing  comic  verses. 
They  were  sometimes  extremely  indecent,  but  he 
"  is  so  old  and  sings  so  well  that  it  is  permitted  in 
all  companies."  The  severe  Madame  de  Genlis  also 
notices  his  ready  gift  of  improvisation,  which  reminds 
us  of  Theodore  Hook.  When  he  was  staying  at  the 
Prince  de  Conti's  house,  where  she  was  also  a  guest, 
a  regular  part  of  every  evening's  entertainment  was  a 
set  of  impromptu  verses  from  him  describing  all  the 


NEW   FRIENDS  103 

ladies  of  the  company,  very  cleverly  done,  and  sung 
with  great  spirit.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  she  by  no 
means  confirms  the  strictures  of  Walpole  upon  Pont 
de  Veyle's  "forbidding"  manners,  but  on  the  contrary 
considers  him  a  charming  old  man. 

In  our  enumeration  of  the  personal  friends  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  amongst  whom  Pont 
de  Veyle,  though  mentioned  in  her  letters,  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  reckoned,  we  must  not  forget 
the  Marquis  d'Usse\  Her  acquaintance  with  him 
dates  indeed  from  an  earlier  period  of  her  existence, 
for  being  a  relation  of  the  de  Vichys  he  had  met  her 
at  the  chateau  of  Champrond,  and  we  learn  from  a 
letter  of  Madame  du  Deffand  that  he  and  his  family 
were  strongly  interested  on  hearing  of  Julie's  pro- 
spective arrival  in  Paris.  He  was  an  eccentric  old 
man,  much  given  to  absence  of  mind,  but  universally 
esteemed  for  his  sterling  qualities.  "  Everybody 
loves  him,"  wrote  Henault,  "if  only  because  it  is  the 
fashion  to  do  so.  But  only  those  who  are  good  them- 
selves can  appreciate  him  as  he  really  deserves."  His 
affection  for  Julie  de  Lespinasse  was  strong  and  con- 
stant, and  found  a  final  quaint  expression  in  his 
legacy  to  her  of  his  "  More>i's  Historical  Dictionary." 

Another  faithful  friend,  who  was  nearer  her  own 
age  and  survived  her  by  many  years,  was  the  Comte 
d'Anlezy,  a  relation  of  the  d'Albon  family.  He  is 
known  chiefly  for  the  courage  which  enabled  him  to 
make  his  life  a  success  despite  the  terrible  handicap 
of  personal  deformity.  The  kind  and  feeling  terms 
in  which  Madame  du  Deffand  alludes  to  this  affliction 
are  well  known,  and  throw  a  world  of  light  upon  her 
character.  "That  nasty  humpback  is  in  the  greatest 
grief,"  she  writes  to  Walpole  two  days  after  the  death 


io4  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

of  Julie  de  Lespinasse.  The  woman  whom  she  had 
once  hailed  as  the  <(  happiness  and  consolation  "  of  her 
life  had  long  since  incurred  her  hatred,  and  no  terms 
of  abuse  were  now  too  coarse  or  too  cruel  for  this 
dead  enemy  and  for  those  who  had  continued  to  love 
her. 

But  the  one  member  of  Madame  du  Deffand's  circle 
who  was  destined  to  exercise  most  influence  upon  the 
fortunes  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  has  as  yet  been 
mentioned  only  in  passing  allusion.  D'Alembert,  for 
the  reader  will  have  conjectured  that  it  is  he  who  is 
meant,  deserves  to  have  a  larger  space  allotted  to  him 
than  any  of  the  foregoing,  and  will  be  fully  dealt  with 
in  the  chapter  immediately  ensuing. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    FOUNDLING   OF    SAINT   JEAN    LE    ROND 

ETWEEN  Jean  d'Alembert  and  the  other  friends 
of  Madame  du  Deffand,  who  have  been  described 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  there  lies  the  gulf  of  a  far- 
reaching  and  most  significant  distinction — a  distinc- 
tion only  to  be  comprehended  by  realising  that  jbey,  JA^ 
belonged  to  the  old  order  of  things,  while  he  was 
emphatically  of  the  new.  The  Due  and  Duchesse 
de  Luxembourg,  the  Chevalier  d'Aydie,  the  Marquis 
d'Usse",  the  Comte  d'Anle"zy  and  the  Marquise  du 
Deffand  herself  were  all  the  descendants  of  noble 
families,  and  members  of  the  privileged  class  who,  in 
theory,  were  supposed  to  derive  a  sufficient  income 
from  their  territorial  estates,  and  in  practice  did  some- 
how generally  contrive  to  get  a  living  without  working 
for  it.  All  professions,  except  that  of  arms,  were 
considered  beneath  their  dignity,  and  it  is  only  right 
to  admit  that  from  that  profession,  which  in  those 
days  usually  involved  active  service,  there  were  few 
indeed  who  recoiled.  All  the  men  in  the  group  just 
enumerated,  without  excepting  even  the  poor  de- 
formed Comte  d'Anle"zy,  had  been  soldiers  at  some 
period  of  their  lives,  and  in  the  chronicles  of  the 
times  we  rarely  encounter  a  nobleman  of  whom  the 
same  may  not  be  said. 

He"nault,  on  the  other  hand,  whose  grandfather  was 
a  prosperous  bookseller  and  his  father  a  farmer-general, 
belongs  to  a  rather  different  category,  but  one  equally 
105 


106  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

characteristic  of  the  Ancien  Regime,  in  that  he  was 
born  to  easy  circumstances  and  an  inheritance  of 
patronage  which  made  his  success  in  the  legal  pro- 
fession almost  a  foregone  conclusion.  It  is  true  that 
he  had  plenty  of  brains  and  was  reputed  to  work  hard, 
but  it  is  scarcely  likely  that  a  modern  judge  or  barrister 
would  be  much  impressed  by  the  severity  of  his 
labours.  Pont  de  Veyle,  though  created  a  count,  was 
born  into  the  same  legal  caste,  which  had  a  recognised 
status  of  its  own,  below  that  of  the  nobility  but 
superior  to  the  bourgeoisie  proper.  His  father  was 
a  lawyer,  and  in  a  half-hearted  fashion  he,  for  a  time, 
followed  the  same  profession,  but  threw  it  up,  and, 
having  abundant  interest  at  Court,  obtained  first  the 
sinecure  of  Reader  to  the  King,  and  then  a  more  im- 
portant but  scarcely  more  onerous  position,  corre- 
sponding in  some  rough  fashion  to  that  of  First  Lord 
of  the  Admiralty. 

D'Alembert  was  very  far,  as  we  shall  see,  from  pos- 
sessing any  of  the  advantages  of  birth,  and  his  life 
is  one  long  record  of  poverty  and  strenuous  labour. 
In  this,  as  in  other  respects,  he  was  a  typical  repre- 
sentative of  that  rising  party  just  beginning  to  make 
its  power  felt  and  destined  in  the  end  to  undermine 
the  old  order  of  things  in  France,  the  party  of  the 
Encyclopedia.  Like  him,  its  leaders  were  nearly 
always  men  of  obscure  origin  and  scanty  means. 
Thus  Diderot  was  the  son  of  a  cutler,  Morellet  of  a 
stationer,  Marmontel  of  a  small  me'tayer.  In  another 
matter  of  even  greater  moment  the  difference  between 
the  two  classes  is  not  less  sharply  defined.  The 
older  generation,  though  more  often  than  not  irre- 
ligious, were  seldom  professed  unbelievers — in  fact, 
so  far  as  theory  went,  they  were  not  perhaps  generally 


THE  FOUNDLING  OF  ST  JEAN  LE  ROND     107 

unbelievers  at  all.  Madame  de  Luxembourg  was,  if 
we  may  believe  Walpole's  good-natured  description, 
a  dutiful  daughter  of  her  Church,  so  far  at  least  as  fear 
of  the  devil  confers  a  claim  to  that  title.  Madame  du 
Deffand,  towards  the  end  of  her  life,  made  more  than 
one  effort  to  se  faire  ddvote,  or,  in  English  idiom,  to 
"get  religion";  but  the  process  bored  her  as  much 
as  did  the  abortive  attempt  of  earlier  days  to  be 
reconciled  with  her  husband,  and  she  gave  it  up  in 
despair.  She  never  professed  unbelief,  however 
(according  to  Madame  de  Genlis  she  had  never  taken 
the  trouble  to  think  out  the  question),  and,  as  has  been 
already  said,  attended  High  Mass  at  her  parish  church 
(St  Sulpice),  and  had  besides  a  reserved  seat  in  the 
convent  chapel  of  St  Joseph.  He'nault,  when  too 
infirm  to  leave  the  house,  had  Mass  said  regularly 
in  a  private  oratory,  and  could  never  bring  himself  to 
approve  of  Voltaire's  attacks  upon  revealed  religion. 
The  Chevalier  d'Aydie  might,  after  his  reformation 
fairly  pass  as  a  not  unworthy  specimen  of  the  Christian 
gentleman. 

D'Alembert,  though  a  man  of  high  principle  and 
exemplary  life  (attributes  which  can  by  no  means  be 
claimed  for  the  Encyclopedists  generally),  was  in  his 
views  fundamentally  and  avowedly  anti-Catholic,  and, 
it  must  be  confessed,  anti-Christian.  There  can 
be  little  doubt  that  it  was  through  his  influence  that 
Julie  de  Lespinasse  became  in  after  life  identified 
with  the  Encyclopedic  party.  Between  the  man  of 
thirty-six  and  the  girl  of  twenty-one  there  was,  from 
the  first,  a  strong  attraction  of  mutual  sympathy, 
arising  perhaps  in  some  degree  from  the  remarkable 
similarity  of  their  fortunes. 

"  All  seemed  made  to  unite  us,"  says  d'Alembert, 


io8  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

in  that  tragical  outpouring  of  a  broken  heart  in  which 
his  anguish  found  expression  after  her  death.  "  Both 
without  father  or  mother,  brother  or  sister,  familiar 
from  the  first  moment  of  our  lives  with  heartless 
desertion,  misery  and  injustice,  Nature  seemed  to  have 
sent  us  into  the  world  that  we  might  be  all  in  all 
to  each  other." 

In  his  case,  however,  the  roles  of  the  respective 
parents  were  reversed,  for  his  father  proved  himself 
to  be  by  no  means  deficient  in  natural  feeling,  while 
his  mother,  Madame  de  Tencin,  surpassed  even  Gas- 
pard  de  Vichy  in  heartlessness  and  callous  cruelty. 
One  service  only — and  that  a  most  involuntary  one — 
she  ever  did  her  son,  since  it  must  have  been  from 
her  that  he  inherited  those  commanding  intellectual 
powers  which  by  her  were  employed  for  purposes 
widely  different  from  those  of  science  and  literature. 
The  daughter  of  a  provincial  lawyer,  she  began  her 
career  as  a  nun,  notorious  for  her  beauty,  intelligence, 
and  infamous  life.  The  sisterhood  in  which  her  lot 
had  been  cast  was  of  an  easy-going  type,  by  no  means 
unusual  in  those  days,  and  had  successfully  defied  all 
the  attempts  of  their  diocesan  to  enforce  a  somewhat 
stricter  discipline.  Yet  even  this  indulgent  com- 
munity had  not  reckoned  on  the  honour  of  harbour- 
ing a  recognised  demi-mondaine,  and  it  was  with  the 
mutual  contentment  and  connivance  of  all  concerned 
that  she  quitted  this  asylum  for  the  larger  life  of  Paris. 
Once  there  Madame  de  Tencin  (who  owed  this  brevet 
title  either  to  her  status  in  "religion,"  or  to  the  rank 
of  Marquise  conferred  on  her  in  later  life)  made  such 
good  use  of  her  talents  for  intrigue,  both  political  and 
amatory,  that  she  was  never  obliged  to  return  to  the 
cloister,  and  ultimately  obtained  a  dispensation  from 


MADAME  DE  TENCIN 

FROM    AN    ENGRAVING    IN   THE   BIBI.IOTHEQUE   NATIONALE 


THE  FOUNDLING  OF  ST  JEAN  LE  ROND     109 

the  Pope,  who  compromised  matters  by  creating  her 
a  canoness  of  some  place  unknown,  to  which,  says 
Saint-Simon,  she  never  went.  As  mistress  of  the 
infamous  Abbe  Dubois  she  obtained  an  influence  in 
public  affairs  which  she  improved  to  such  purpose  as 
at  last  to  realise  her  ambition  of  becoming,  through 
the  medium  of  her  brother  and  instrument  (Cardinal 
de  Tencin,  already  mentioned  in  these  pages),  practi- 
cally a  Minister  of  the  Crown. 

To  such  far-reaching  activity  the  duties  of  maternity, 
apart  from  the  indecorum  attaching  to  them  in  the 
circumstances,  would  certainly  have  offered  an  incon- 
venient interruption.  Madame  de  Tencin  accordingly 
when,  in  November  1717,  she  became  a  mother,  cut 
the  Gordian  knot  by  the  simple  expedient  of  ordering 
her  child  to  be  exposed  on  the  steps  of  the  Church  of 
Saint  Jean  le  Rond.1  The  poor  baby  was  rescued  by 
the  police  and  received  into  the  cold  bosom  of  public 
charity,  a  foster-mother  at  five  francs  a  month  being 
found  for  him  in  the  country.  From  the  condition  in 
which,  at  the  end  of  six  weeks,  he  was  discovered,  it 
is  not  likely  that  his  nurse  would  long  have  continued 
to  enjoy  her  salary,  but  deliverance  was  at  hand.  His 
father,  the  Chevalier  Destouches,  a  man  of  dissolute 
life  but  not  of  inhuman  nature,  had  meanwhile  re- 
turned from  a  foreign  mission  to  Paris,  and  set  himself 
at  once  to  seek  for  the  child.  The  abominable jnjDther 
refused  at  first  to  give  him  any  indication  concerning 
its  fate,  but  Destouches  was  resolute  and  happily  not 
too  late.  He  found  the  poor  little  mite  in  such  a  state 
as  was  to  be  expected  of  a  child  whose  first  bed  had 
been  on  the  cold  stones  (and  that  on  a  winter  night), 
and  who  had  since  for  six  weeks  enjoyed  the  benefits 

1  Near  Notre  Dame.     It  has  been  long  pulled  down. 


no  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

of  public  nursing  at  four  shillings  a  month.  His  head, 
we  are  told,  was  "  no  bigger  than  an  apple,"  his  fingers 
"  the  size  of  needles."  For  hours  his  father  drove 
about  Paris  holding  in  his  arms  the  infant,  whom  he 
had  wrapped  in  his  own  cloak,  and  endeavouring  to 
find  some  human-hearted  woman  who,  for  such  a 
modest  sum  as  he  could  afford  to  pay,  would  under- 
take the  duties  of  nurse.  Nobody  at  first  seemed 
willing  to  accept  the  responsibility  of  a  nursling  ap- 
parently doomed  to  death,  but  at  last  a  glazier's  wife, 
a  kind  soul  if  ever  there  was  one,  was  moved  to 
motherly  pity  at  the  sight  of  the  suffering  innocent, 
and  by  unremitting  care  actually  nursed  him  into 
something  approaching  health. 

In  her  charge  he  was  left  till  old  enough  to  be 
sent  to  school.  His  father  visited  him  frequently,  his 
detestable  mother  only  once.  The  little  Jean,  who 
was  then  seven  years  old,  always  remembered  what 
took  place  at  that  single  interview.  Destouches, 
whose  importunities  had  prevailed  upon  Madame 
de  Tencin  on  this  one  occasion  to  accompany  him, 
remarked  to  her  in  a  tone  of  reproach:  "You  must 
allow,  madame,  that  it  would  have  been  a  pity  if  this 
dear  little  fellow  had  been  left  to  perish."  "Oh,  if 
you  are  going  to  begin  scolding,  I'm  off,"  flippantly 
replied  Madame  de  Tencin,  rising  as  if  to  depart. 
That  craving  for  poetic  justice  which  is  inherent  in 
the  human  breast  gave  rise  to  a  tradition  that  in 
after  years  Madame  de  Tencin,  realising  that  she 
was  the  mother  of  a  distinguished  man,  repented 
of  her  determination  to  disown  him,  and  that  her 
overtures  to  him  were  sternly  and  coldly  rejected. 
But  d'Alembert  himself  declared  that  there  was  not 
a  word  of  truth  in  this  dramatic  legend.  She  never 


THE  FOUNDLING  OF  ST  JEAN  LE  ROND     1 1 1 

made  any  advances  to  him,  he  said,  and  if  she  had 
he  would  have  accepted  them  ;  he  would  have  been 
glad  to  have  a  mother  at  any  price.  In  like  manner 
the  world  on  her  death  found  it  hard  to  believe  that 
she  had  bequeathed  her  whole  fortune  to  a  stranger, 
and  invented  a  story  that  it  had  in  part,  at  least,  been 
left  in  trust  for  her  son.  But  that  son  knew  better. 
"  She  never  had  a  thought  for  me  in  her  lifetime,"  he 
said,  "why  should  she  have  a  thought  for  me  in  her 
death  ?  " 

The  case  is  almost  aggravated  by  the  curious 
circumstance  that  this  unnatural  mother  was,  appar- 
ently, a  most  good-natured  woman,  and  in  effect  by 
no  means  incapable  of  doing  a  kind  action.  Marmon- 
tel,  who,  at  the  beginning  of  his  career,  benefited  by 
her  patronage  (for  she  liked  clever  men,  and  was  a 
pioneer  in  the  fashion  of  literary  salons],  has  with 
much  humour  recorded  the  impression  of  sincerity 
and  kind-hearted  simplicity  which  she  made  upon 
his  inexperienced  mind.  No  one  who  has  read 
her  letters  to  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  written  when 
she  was  at  the  height  of  her  political  power,  can 
fail  to  be  struck  by  her  perpetual  assumption  of  an 
affectionate  interest  in  the  little  de  Fronsac,  her 
correspondent's  son,  and  the  minute  details  into 
which  she  enters  concerning  his  manners,  habits, 
acquirements  and  all  such  matters  as  are  naturally 
dear  to  a  father's  heart.  Taken  in  conjunction  with 
her  callous  abandonment  of  her  own  child,  this 
affectation  of  a  quality,  in  itself  so  pleasing  and 
womanly,  inspires  an  almost  greater  repulsion  than 
any  other  part  of  her  character. 

We  return  to  the  fortunes  of  little  Jean  Baptiste 
Lerond  (so  baptised,   I   need  scarcely  explain,   from 


ii2  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

the  locality  in  which  he  was  discovered).  His  father, 
who  died  when  the  boy  was  nine  years  old,  bequeathed 
him  an  annuity  of  1 200  francs,  and  a  recommendation 
to  the  care  of  the  Destouches  family,  with  which  they 
honourably  complied.  By  their  influence  Jean  was  at 
the  age  of  twelve  removed  from  his  modest  school 
in  the  Faubourg  St  Antoine  to  the  famous  College 
des  Quatre  Nations,  now  represented,  so  far  as  it  still 
exists,  by  the  Bibliotheque  Mazarin  and  the  Institut 
de  France.  This  institution  had  been  founded  by 
Cardinal  Mazarin  for  the  gratuitous  instruction  of 
boys  belonging  to  the  higher  classes,  the  greater 
number  of  scholars  being  noblemen's  sons,  and, 
according  to  the  standard  of  the  times,  their  require- 
ments, mental  and  physical,  were  liberally  provided 
for.  From  the  modern  point  of  view,  it  might  con- 
ceivably seem  a  den  of  hardship  and  cruelty,  and  in 
this  place  we  may  note  that  the  French  schoolboy  of 
that  day,  unlike  his  successor,  participated  to  the  full 
with  his  British  compeer  in  the  privilege  of  receiving 
corporal  punishment.1  For  a  boy  so  clever  and  hard- 
working as  Jean,  however,  even  this  system  would 
have  few  terrors,  and  he  speedily  achieved  distinction 
in  all  his  classes,  and  at  the  hours  of  recreation 
doubtless2  played  happily  enough  at  barres  in  the 

1  Mercier,  in  his  "Tableau  de   Paris,"   gives  a   lurid   picture  of  the 
cruelty  with   which   flogging  was   practised  at  this  very  "  College  des 
Quatre  Nations."     He  tells  a  scarcely  credible  story  of  a  porter  stabbed 
to  death  in  a  scuffle  by  one  of  the  bigger  boys  who  refused  to  submit  to 
his  punishment. 

2  Mazarin  had  intended  the  College  course  to  comprise  instruction  in 
riding,  fencing  and  dancing,  but  this  excellent  provision  was  found  to  be 
too  expensive,  and  d'Alembert  never  had   the   benefit  of  these  gentle- 
manly accomplishments.     During  one  of  his  visits  to  Prussia  he  writes 
to  Julie,  in  giving  an  account  of  a  Court  ball :     "  You  may  be  sure  I  did 
not  dance,  but  if  I  had  wished,  I  might  have  danced  with  princesses." 


THE  FOUNDLING  OF  ST  JEAN  LE  ROND     113 

big  flagged  courtyard  which  remains  to  this  day. 
At  eighteen  he  took  his  Bachelor  of  Arts  deg/ee 
(for  school  and  university  courses  were  then  dove- 
tailed into  each  other  in  a  manner  rather  difficult  of 
comprehension  to  moderns)  read  law  for  two  years, 
dabbled  in  medicine,  and,  finally,  having  discovered 
that  his  true  bent  was  mathematical,  settled  down, 
at  the  age  of  twenty,  to  the  study  of  the  exact 
sciences. 

He  was  now  once  more  living  under  the  roof  of  his 
kind  nurse,  Madame  Rousseau,  for  whom  he  always 
entertained  a  devoted  attachment,  sufficient  in  itself 
to  refute  the  charges  of  coldness  and  ingratitude 
sometimes  brought  against  him.  His  annuity  of  fifty 
pounds  brought  affluence  to  the  humble  household,  and 
he  himself,  by  sharing  their  frugal  meals,  and  other- 
wise exercising  the  utmost  economy,  was  able  to 
devote  his  whole  attention  to  mathematics,  and  to 
dispense  with  the  taking  of  pupils,  which  he  regarded 
(and  in  his  own  case  doubtless  with  justice)  as  an 
indefensible  waste  of  time.  By  degrees  the 
publication  of  various  scientific  works  brought  him 
reputation,  though  no  great  increase  of  income,  and 
about  a  year  or  two  before  his  first  meeting  with 
Julie  de  Lespinasse  he  had  become  known  to  the 
general  public  through  his  connection  with  the 
Encyclopedia.  Of  this  remarkable  production, 
destined  under  its  inoffensively  sounding  name  to 
furnish  the  battleground  for  internecine  party  strife, 
more  will  hereafter  be  said.  For  the  present  it  -is 
sufficient  to  observe  that  Diderot,  having  been 
commissioned  by  the  booksellers  (as  publishers  were 
then  frankly  denominated)  to  undertake  the  editor- 
ship of  this  vast  publication,  invited  d'Alembert,  for  by 


ii4  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

that  name l  of  doubtful  origin  he  had  elected  to  call 
himself,  to  be  his  coadjutor.  The  Introduction  or  Pre- 
liminary Discourse  was  written  by  him,  and  appeared 
at  the  end  of  1752  along  with  several  essays  on  general 
subjects.  This  first  excursion  into  non-scientific 
regions  established  his  reputation  as  a  man  of 
literature,  and  also  as  a  formidable  controversialist, 
and  procured  him  the  undying  hatred  of  the  clerical 
party  owing  to  the  aggressively  unorthodox  bias 
which  he  took  no  great  pains  to  conceal.  Some 
satirical  remarks,  moreover,  on  the  relations  of  literary 
men  with  their  patrons,  gave  umbrage  to  divers  exalted 
persons  who  had  begun  to  interest  themselves  in  the 
rising  genius,  and  even  the  good-natured  President 
Renault  took  mortal  offence  because  his  cherished 
"  Abrege  Chronologique  "  was  not  selected  for  special 
mention  in  the  Preliminary  Discourse  to  the  Encyclo- 
pedia as  one  of  the  great  historical  works  of  the  day. 
It  is  impossible  not  to  admire  the  independence 
shown  by  d'Alembert  in  this  matter,  for  he  had  to 
resist  the  solicitations  not  only  of  interest  but  of 
friendship.  Madame  du  Deffand,  at  this  time  his 
chosen  confidante  and  sympathiser,  was  most  anxious 
that  he  should  be  on  good  terms  with  Renault,  but 
he  was  adamant  to  her  entreaties. 

"Can  you  really  think,  madame,"  he  writes,  "that 
I  ought  to  mention  the  '  Abrege  Chronologique  '  in  a 
work  destined  to  celebrate  the  great  geniuses  of  the 
nation  and  the  works  which  have  really  contributed 
to  the  progress  of  letters  and  science  ?  I  grant  you, 
it  is  a  useful  work,  and  handy  enough,  but  that  is  all 

1  M.  Joseph  Bertrand  hazards  the  conjecture  that  this  name  may  form 
an  anagram  of  his  earlier  appellation,  thus  :  Baptiste  Lerond  =•  d'Alembert, 
soit! 


THE  FOUNDLING  OF  ST  JEAN  LE  ROND     115 

there  is  to  it.  That  is  what  literary  people  think, 
and  that  is  what  the  world  will  say  when  the  president 
is  no  more,  and  when  I  myself  am  no  more.  I  do 
not  wish  to  incur  the  reproach  of  having  given 
exaggerated  praise  to  anyone." 

Matters  were  not  conspicuously  mended  by  the 
article  on  Chronology  in  the  Encyclopedia  itself, 
which  was  also  entrusted  to  d'Alembert,  and  in  which 
the  president's  magnum  opus  was  briefly  mentioned 
as  one  of  several  good  chronological  abridgements. 
Yet,  to  the  credit  of  the  Ancien  Regime  be  it  said, 
neither  his  uncompromising  independence  nor  his 
extreme  poverty  prevented  d'Alembert  from  achiev- 
ing a  considerable  social  success  in  some  of  the  most 
aristocratic  of  Parisian  circles.  His  popularity  was 
in  the  first  instance  owing  to  a  remarkable  gift  of 
mimicry,  but  as  his  intellectual  powers  gradually 
became  known  they  met  with  due  recognition  from 
a  society  which,  however  grave  its  deficiencies,  was 
most  generous  in  appreciating  every  form  of  talent. 
Among  the  persons  of  distinction  who  were  first  in 
welcoming  him  to  their  houses  may  be  mentioned 
Madame  Geoffrin,  the  Duchesse  du  Maine,  the 
President  H^nault,  and  last,  but  not  least,  Madame 
du  Deffand  herself. 

This  lady  had  from  the  first  a  strong  liking  for 
d'Alembert,  which  was  in  no  way  diminished  by  his 
rather  ferocious  spirit  of  independence.  It  was  one 
of  her  most  cherished  illusions  that  she  enjoyed  plain 
speaking ;  and  so,  no  doubt,  she  did  under  the  form 
which  it  assumes  in  d'Alembert's  letters  to  her  written 
during  the  early  days  of  her  friendship.  Few  things 
are  so  intoxicating  to  a  clever  woman  as  the  homage 
paid  to  her  intellect  by  a  man  of  genius  whose  profes- 


n6  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

sions  and  practice  alike  convince  her  that  only  to 
intellect  would  such  homage  be  conceded.  To  be  con- 
sulted concerning  the  literary  projects  of  this  brilliant 
Ishmael,  to  be  made  the  confidante  of  his  depreciatory 
judgments  upon  other  writers  (she  had  not  sufficient 
loyalty  really  to  resent  his  snubbing  of  Henault),  all 
this  was  delightful  flattery  indeed,  the  more  so  because, 
at  the  time,  it  was  undoubtedly  sincere.  Their  opin- 
ions of  each  other  were,  as  will  hereafter  appear,  des- 
tined to  undergo  considerable  modification,  but  in  the 
mean  while  d'Alembert  was  one  of  the  most  assiduous 
frequenters  of  Madame  du  Deffand's  salon,  and  we 
shall  presently  see  that  her  friendship,  even  against 
his  will,  was  of  effectual  service  to  him. 

At  the  period  which  we  have  now  reached,  d'Alem- 
bert was,  as  has  already  been  said,  between  thirty- 
six  and  thirty-seven  years  of  age.  He  was  not 
commonly  supposed  to  be  remarkable  for  physical 
attractions.  The  memoirs  of  the  time  are  full  of 
allusions  to  his  small,  meagre  figure,  insignificant  face, 
and  shrill,  falsetto  voice.  Yet  the  portrait  by  Latour 
taken  about  this  date,1  with  its  charming  reproduction 
of  that  satirical  but  not  unkindly  expression  generally, 
on  his  own  showing,  attributed  to  him,  scarcely  bears 
out  these  disparaging  commentaries.  A  man  of  blame- 
less life,  he  did  not,  of  course,  escape  the  stream  of 
vile  innuendo  with  which  so  rare  a  phenomenon  was 
in  those  days  invariably  greeted.  It  is  one  of  the 
finest  points  in  his  character  that  he  never  yielded  to 
the  temptation,  particularly  alluring  to  a  Frenchman, 
of  meeting  these  insults  with  boastful  tales  of  imaginary 
conquests.  He  was  content  to  speak  of  his  life  as 
it  really  was  and  as  it  lay  open  to  the  eyes  of  all  the 

1  In  1753- 


D'ALEMBERT 

FROM    THE   PASTEL   BY   I.ATOUR    IN   THE   MUSEK   DE   SAINT   QUENTIN 


THE  FOUNDLING  OF  ST  JEAN  LE  ROND     117 

world.  Work,  especially  scientific  work,  was  to  him 
the  main  object  of  existence,  and  so  far  he  had  found 
no  other  which  could  for  a  moment  be  placed  in  com- 
petition with  it. 

"  If  you  only  knew  the  sweetness  and  restfulness 
of  geometry !  "  he  writes  to  Madame  du  Deffand,  who 
had  urged  him  to  devote  his  time  to  more  popular 
subjects,  "and  then  the  dunces  never  read  you,  and 
so  can  neither  praise  nor  blame  you  !  .  .  .  Ah  !  if  you 
knew  all  the  fine  things  I  am  writing  now  which  no  one 
will  ever  read.  .  .  .  Geometry  is  my  wife,  and  I  would 
fain  be  a  true  husband." 

Yet  even  he,  indefatigable  worker  as  he  was,  was 
so  far  of  his  century  that  he  seems  to  have  always 
kept  his  evenings  free  for  recreation.  Play  and  opera 
and  supper-party  had  all  a  liberal  share  in  the  disposi- 
tion of  his  time,  and  his  worst  enemies  never  denied 
.that  he  could  be  excellent  company.  After  the  severe 
labour  of  the  morning,  his  spirits  seemed  to  rise  like 
those  of  a  boy  out  of  school,  and  his  constant  flow  of 
satirical  humour,  pointed  by  occasional  samples  of  most 
artistic  mimicry,  often  kept  his  companions  laughing 
for  hours  together. 

Such  was  d'Alembert  when  he  first  made  the 
acquaintance  of  one  destined  to  enlarge  his  views 
of  life,  by  introducing  him  to  hitherto  undreamt-of 
possibilities,  alike  of  happiness  and  of  suffering. 


CHAPTER   X 

PHILOSOPHY    AND    MUSIC 

MADAME  DU  DEFFAND'S  quarters  at  St 
Joseph  were,  as  d'Alembert  elegantly  expressed 
it,  "  a  devil  of  a  way  "  from  his  modest  lodging  over 
the  glazier's  shop  in  the  Rue  Michel  le  Comte,  that 
narrow,  quaint  old  street  where  a  visitor  can  still  fancy 
himself  back  in  the  Paris  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
Her  former  abode  had  been  much  nearer  him,  yet, 
despite  this  increased  distance,  his  letters  to  her 
during  that  absence  in  the  country  so  often  alluded 
to  contain  many  promises  of  continuing  to  visit  her 
frequently  on  her  return.  One  condition,  however, 
he  is  inclined  to  make — namely,  that  he  shall  see  her 
only  tete-a-tete.  Either  he  will  dine  with  her  (Madame 
du  Deffand  was  at  this  time  forming  resolutions,  which 
she  never  carried  out,  of  going  to  bed  earlier,  and 
coming  down  in  time  for  the  midday  dinner)  or  he 
will  arrive  at  the  beginning  of  the  evening  and  vanish 
before  her  other  guests  appear.  The  truth  is  that  he 
was  then  out  of  conceit  with  the  world  in  general,  and 
with  the  childlike  naivete  which  is  such  an  endearing 
characteristic  of  his  sex,  and  which  seems  to  be  most 
strongly  developed  in  its  ablest  members,  he  pours 
out  his  grievances  to  this  sympathising  correspondent, 
accompanied  by  assurances  that  they  do  not  affect 
him  in  the  least.  He  is  not  making  any  money,  and 
the  Academy  won't  elect  him,  and  people  are  saying 
horrible  things  about  his  writings,  and  the  President 

118 


PHILOSOPHY  AND   MUSIC  119 

Renault  is,  on  chronological  grounds,  mortally  offended 
with  him,  and — -"/  don't  care!"  He  never  accepts 
invitations  now  (going  regularly  to  the  Opera,  however), 
is  in  bed  every  night  by  nine,  and  no  life  ever  suited 
him  so  well,  and  he  means  to  keep  to  it,  etc.  etc.  etc. 

D'Alembert,  it  may  be  observed,  was  always  rather 
in  the  habit  of  representing  himself  as  a  recluse,  a  very 
frequent  pose  with  the  people  of  that  day,  and  appar- 
ently compatible  with  what  to  the  degenerate  twentieth 
century  appears  a  considerable  amount  of  dissipation. 
In  the  present  instance,  however,  his  professions  seem 
to  have  been  for  a  time  quite  genuine,  but  the  mood 
which  dictated  them  passed  away.  Not  long  after 
Madame  du  Deffand's  return  to  Paris  we  find  him 
established  as  a  regular  member,  perhaps  next  to 
He"nault  the  most  important  member,  of  her  evening 
circle,  and  when  she  went  out  to  supper  it  seems  to 
have  been  almost  as  much  a  matter  of  course  for  him 
to  be  included  in  the  invitation  as  for  Julie  de  Lespin- 
asse  herself. 

The  mention  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  suggests 
the  probable  clue  to  d'Alembert's  change  of  attitude.    / 
We  have  seen  how  deep  was  the  impression  which 
the  young  girl  from  the  first  made  upon  him,     Intellect 
was  the  god  of  his  idolatry,  but  perhaps  even  Julie's 
intellectual  powers  commanded  less  of  his  admiration  V 
than  did  the  perfect  bearing  which,  as  he  told  her,  she   ( 
had  apparently  acquired  by  instinct.     Under  all  his    \ 
assumption  of  independence  there  lay  a  rather  painful 
consciousness  of  his  own  deficiencies  in  the  article  of 
breeding — deficiencies  which,  according  to    Madame 
du  Deffand,  were  unfavourably  commented  upon  on 
his  first  appearance  in  society.     It  is  easy  to  under- 
stand that  the  glazier's  household  would  be  scarcely 


120  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

the  place  to  learn  manners,  and.  though  most  of  his 
fellow  pupils  at  the  College  des  Ouatre  Nations  were 
of  good  family,  the  school  life  of  the  time  was  too 
rough  and  hard  to  have  a  particularly  refining  influ- 
ence. Between  Julie  and  him  a  humorous  under- 
standing seems  to  have  grown  up  that  she  was  in 
these  matters  to  be  his  mentor.  Thus  in  one  of  his 
letters  to  her,  during  his  visit  to  the  King  of  Prussia, 
he  banteringly  tells  her  that  she  must  not  expect  to 
find  his  table  manners  improved  by  keeping  royal 
society,  as  Frederic  himself  sets  him  a  very  bad 
example.  While  Julie  lectured  him  on  deportment, 
he  in  turn  lectured  her  on  the  moral  obligation  of 
cheerfulness  and  the  duty  of  eschewing  the  minor 
social  fictions,  neither  of  which  lessons  came  easily 
to  a  temperament  distinguished  by  frequent  variations 
of  mood  and  a  sensitive  anxiety  to  please.  Their 
friendship  early  noticed  by  at  least  one  sympathetic 
observer,1  grew  on  the  man's  side  all  the  sooner 
into  love,  that  as  yet  his  only  affair  of  the  heart  had 
been  a  very  innocent  and  rather  silly  flirtation  with  one 
of  his  nurse's  daughters,  strongly  disapproved  by 
Madame  du  Deffand,  who  perhaps  feared  that  in  a 
man  of  his  honourable  character  the  result  micrht  be 

o 

a  permanent  entanglement. 

In  English  novels,  and  to  a  great  extent  in  English 
life,  an  offer  of  marriage  is  regarded  as  the  natural 
outcome  of  falling  in  love,  and  even  the  more  prudent 
countrymen  of  d'Alembert  expressed  some  surprise 
as  year  after  year  went  by  leaving  him  still  an  ob- 
viously devoted  lover,  and  yet  to  all  appearance  not 
a  matrimonial  suitor.  At  the  present  stage  of  affairs, 
however,  he  might  certainly  plead  with  truth,  as  he 

1  Marmontel. 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   MUSIC  121 

pleaded  less  convincingly  twelve  years  later,  that  he 
was  too  poor  to  keep  a  wife.  Shortly  before,  when 
declining  a  lucrative  post  offered  him  at  Berlin  by  the 
great  Frederic,  he  had  written:  "My  fortune  is  less 
than  moderate,  my  whole  income  only  amounts  to 
1 700  francs  a  year "  (rather  over  70  pounds).  Of 
this  sum  1 200  francs,  or  about  50  pounds,  were  be- 
queathed him,  it  will  be  remembered,  by  his  father, 
the  remainder  was  derived  from  the  Academy  of 
Sciences,  of  which  he  was  a  member.  For  his  ser- 
vices as  joint  editor,  he  was  also  receiving  from  the 
publishers  of  the  Encyclopedia  another  1200  francs 
a  year,  besides  some  additional  bonuses,  but  this  was 
not  a  resource  to  be  reckoned  upon,  as  the  Encyclo- 
pedia might,  at  any  moment,  be  stopped  by  Govern- 
ment. As  for  his  other  literary  work,  he  had 
expected  (so  he  told  Madame  du  Deffand)  that  the 
"  Miscellaneous  Essays  "  might  bring  him  in  as  much 
as  two  or  three  hundred  pounds,  but  it  looked  as  if 
twenty  would  be  much  nearer  the  mark.  It  is  true 
that  Frederic,  though  disappointed  in  his  design  of 
securing  this  scientific  genius  for  his  own  service, 
had  magnanimously  bestowed  upon  him  another  fifty 
pounds  annually  by  way  of  pension.  But  even  a  fixed 
income  of  120  pounds  (not  a  penny  of  which  was  de- 
rived from  capital),  plus  some  uncertain  additions 
amounting,  at  the  very  outside,  to  another  100  pounds, 
was  scarcely  sufficient  to  commence  housekeeping  upon 
in  Paris,  where  the  President  Renault,  in  his  young 
days,  with  an  allowance  of  250  pounds  from  his  parents, 
for  pocket  money  only,  had  thought  himself  exceed- 
ingly ill-treated. 

I   have   gone    at   some  length   into   this  question 
of  income,  not   merely   to   account  for  d'Alembert's 


122  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

backwardness  as  a  suitor,  but  because  a  recent  French 
writer  has  seen  good  to  dispute  his  reputation  for 
disinterestedness  and  honourable  poverty,  and,  in 
particular,  reproaches  him  with  accepting  the  above- 
mentioned  pension  from  Frederic.  But  such  inter- 
national gratuities  were  then  the  recognised  method 
for  encouraging  scientific  and  literary  activity,  and 
no  discredit  was  attached  by  public  opinion  to  receiv- 
ing them.  The  reproach  is  in  the  present  instance 
rendered  especially  unjust  by  the  fact  that  d'Alembert, 
though  his  unorthodoxy  in  religion  and,  still  more, 
in  music  (!),  had  just  forfeited  his  chance  of  a  pension 
from  the  Home  Government,  and  Frederic's  benefac- 
tion was,  by  this  free-thinking  monarch,  largely  de- 
signed as  a  solatium. 

There  is  yet  another  aspect  of  this  question  which 
well  deserves  consideration.  Is  there  not,  after  all, 
something  to  be  said  for  a  society  in  which  a  man  so 
poor  as  d'Alembert  was  received  on  equal  terms  with 
He'nault,  and  others  much  richer  even  than  he  ? 
Arthur  Young's  remarks  upon  this  excellent  char- 
acteristic of  the  Parisian  beau  monde  are  well  worth 
recalling  here. 

"The  society  for  a  man  of  letters,  or  who  has  any 
scientific  pursuit,  cannot  be  exceeded.  ...  I  should 
pity  the  man  who  expected,  without  other  advantages 
of  a  very  different  nature,  to  be  well  received  in  a 
brilliant  circle  at  London,  because  he  was  a  fellow 
of  the  Royal  Society.  But  this  would  not  be  the 
case  with  a  member  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at 
Paris  :  he  is  sure  of  a  good  reception  everywhere." 

Yet  this  shrewd  observer  does  not  fail  to  record 
some  other  considerations  inclining  the  balance 
against  Paris  as  an  abode  for  people  of  small  means. 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   MUSIC  123 

"Walking,  which  in  London  is  so  pleasant  and  so 
clean  that  ladies  do  it  every  day,  is  here  a  toil  and 
fatigue  to  a  man,  and  an  impossibility  to  a  well-dressed 
woman.  ...  I  saw  a  poor  child  run  over  and  probably 
killed,  and  have  been  myself  many  times  blackened 
with  the  mud  of  the  kennels.  .  .  .  If  young  noblemen 
at  London  were  to  drive  their  chaises  in  streets  with- 
out footways  as  their  brethren  do  at  Paris,  they  would 
speedily  and  justly  get  very  well  threshed  or  rolled 
in  the  kennel.  This  circumstance  renders  Paris  an 
ineligible  residence  for  persons  that  cannot  afford  to 
keep  a  coach ;  a  convenience  which  is  as  dear  as  at 
London.  The  fiacres,  hackney-coaches,  are  much 
worse  than  at  that  city ;  and  chairs  there  are  none, 
for  they  would  be  driven  down  in  the  streets.  To 
this  circumstance,  also,  it  is  owing  that  all  persons 
of  small  or  moderate  fortune  are  forced  to  dress  in 
black,  with  black  stockings.1 

In  justice  to  the  Ancien  Regime  we  must  add  his 
concluding  reflection  : 

"With  the  pride,  arrogance,  and  ill-temper  of 
English  wealth  this  could  not  be  borne,  but  the  pre- 
vailing good-humour  of  the  French  eases  all  such 
untoward  circumstances." 

Young's  statements  concerning  the  danger  and  dis- 
comfort of  walking  in  Paris  are  confirmed,  with  the 
addition  of  many  lurid  details,  by  French  contem- 
porary writers  such  as  Mercier  and  Restif  de  la 

1  This  does  not  seem  to  our  ideas  a  very  terrible  privation,  but  we 
must  remember  that  men  had  not  yet  decided  on  immolating  the  pictur- 
esque in  dress  to  the  convenient,  and  that  women  never  thought  about  the 
convenient  at  all.  In  the  opinion  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  the  ideal 
gala  suit  for  a  gentleman  included  a  brown  coat  embroidered  in  silver, 
with  lining  and  vest  of  pale  yellow — a  scheme  of  colour  which  may  well 
stir  some  of  us  to  unavailing  regrets. 


124  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

Bretonne.  Not  only  were  there  no  sidepaths,  but 
there  was  apparently  no  surface  drainage  worth 
taking  into  account.  In  rainy  weather  the  filthy 
gutters,  little  better  than  open  sewers,  which  flowed 
down  the  middle  of  the  streets  were  swollen  to  an 
extent  which  made  them  exceedingly  difficult  to  cross. 
This  was  the  opportunity  of  the  enterprising  class 
known  as  dtcrotteurs,  who  kept  a  plank  bridge 
mounted  on  rollers  in  readiness  at  the  top  of  each 
street,  and  for  the  consideration  of  about  half-a-farthing 
allowed  foot-passengers  to  traverse  it.  These  bridges 
had  of  course  to  be  withdrawn  in  a  hurry  every  time 
a  carriage  came  that  way,  and  the  results  to  those 
who  happened  to  be  crossing  on  them  were,  as  may 
be  supposed,  far  from  delectable.  When  we  further 
consider  that  the  street  lamps  were  never  lighted  on 
nights  when  the  moon  according  to  the  calendar 
should  have  been  in  evidence,  and  according  to  facts 
was  frequently  invisible,  we  begin  to  understand  why 
d'Alembert  laid  so  much  stress  upon  the  distance 
intervening  between  the  Rue  Michel  le  Comte  and  the 
Rue  St  Dominique. 

In  Mercier's  "Tableau  de  Paris"  we  have  a  tragic 
picture  of  a  needy  gentleman  going  out  to  dinner  or 
supper  at  a  smart  house,  and  dressed  for  the  occasion 
in  a  black  velvet  coat,  adorned  with  gold  lace,  a  gold- 
embroidered  vest,  an  elaborate  wig  and  (in  flat  con- 
tradiction to  Young)  white  silk  stockings.  His  only 
chance  of  arriving  in  presentable  trim  is  to  requisition 
the  services  of  the  dtcrotteurs  who,  besides  providing 
the  bridges  above  referred  to,  fulfilled  the  additional 
mission  (from  which  their  name  was  derived),  of 
brushing  and  polishing  foot-passengers  into  something 
approaching  respectability.  The  alternative  was  of 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   MUSIC  125 

course  to  take  a  fiacre,  for  which  the  average  fare 
seems  to  have  been  about  the  same  as  it  is  in  London 
now — namely,  a  shilling  (24  sous).  There  was  a 
traditional  belief  that  for  short  distances  the  legal 
price  only  amounted  to  sixpence,  but  this  view  was 
resisted  by  the  cabmen  with  all  that  stubborn  tenacity 
and  bewildering  eloquence  which,  in  every  country 
and  period,  have  distinguished  this  courageous  class  of 
men.  Almost  the  only  amusing  scene  in  Marivaux's 
dreary  novel  "Marianne"  represents  a  pitched  battle 
on  this  very  point  between  Marianne's  mistress  (a 
linendraper)  and  a  dissatisfied  cabman,  to  whom  the 
terrified  heroine  secretly  slips  an  extra  fourpence, 
thus  getting  rid  of  him,  to  her  own  relief  and  the 
intense  disgust  of  her  more  spirited  employer. 

Shilling  cab-fares  become  a  serious  consideration 
where  the  whole  income,  as  in  d'Alembert's  case,  is 
under  200  pounds.  As  a  set-off  we  may  reckon 
a  considerable  supply  of  good  dinners  and  suppers, 
for  in  the  eighteenth  century  Parisian  hospitality 
was  not  the  ethereal  affair  that  it  is  in  the  twentieth. 
But,  unluckily,  d'Alembert,  like  most  brain-workers, 
suffered  too  much  from  his  digestion  to  appreciate 
these  advantages  at  their  proper  value.  He  had  the 
true  dyspeptic's  craving  for  simple  fare  and  the  true 
dyspeptic's  intolerance  towards  all  who  were  fortunate 
enough  to  be  able  to  enjoy  their  food.  He  is  half  in- 
clined to  trace  Madame  du  Deffand's  blindness  to  her 
love  of  good  living.  When  enjoying  the  royal  hospi- 
tality at  Sans  Souci  he  lectures  the  great  King  on  in- 
dulging too  freely  in  fruit.  He  writes  pathetically  to 
Julie  that  the  highly  spiced  made  dishes  of  the  Prussian 
Court  dinners  will  be  the  ruin  of  him.  He  wants 
plain  broth  and  plain  boiled  beef,  and  cannot  get  them. 


126  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

Besides,  he  suffers  from  the  want  of  his  daily  walks  in 
Paris.  After  all,  it  seems  there  was  a  good  side  to 
those  toilsome  pilgrimages  from  the  Rue  Michel  le 
Comte  to  the  convent  of  St  Joseph. 

Theatre-going,  his  favourite  recreation,  would  cost 
d'Alembert  nothing  at  all.  At  the  Comedie  Franchise 
the  price  of  admission  to  the  pit  or  parterre,  where, 
till  the  year  1782,  no  seats  were  provided,  was  nomin- 
ally one  franc.1  But  the  actors  had  the  right  of  giving 
away,  beforehand,  a  large  proportion,  sometimes  as 
much  as  five-sixths,  of  the  total  of  the  tickets,  and  the 
friends  on  whom  they  were  bestowed  were  often  able 
to  retail  them  for  three  or  even  six  times  their  original 
value.  All  men  of  any  literary  distinction,  however, 
were,  on  the  intercession  of  some  influential  friend, 
granted  the  privilege  of  free  entry.  In  d'Alembert's 
case  his  entries,  were  allowed  him  at  the  request 
of  the  celebrated  actress  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  who 
had  read  his  "  Miscellaneous  Essays  "  with  admiration, 
and  was  always  thought  to  be  more  or  less  in  sympathy 
with  the  Encyclopedic  party  generally.  Admission  to 
the  Opera  had  been  already  procured  for  him  through 
the  influence  of  President  Henault,  and  we  have  seen 
how  constantly  he  availed  himself  of  this  privilege. 
Amidst  his  truly  encyclopedic  studies  he  had  found 
time  to  devote  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  music,  and 
it  was  his  heterodoxy  on  this  subject,  even  more  than 
on  theology  or  science,  which  brought  him  into  dis- 
repute with  the  followers  of  established  tradition. 

The  Encyclopedic,  or,  as  its  adherents  styled  it,  the 
"philosophic,"  movement  was  beginning  to  make  itself 
felt  in  all  directions.      In  history,  science,  art,  litera- 
ture,  ethics,  might  be  traced  the  growth  of  a  new 
1  At  the  Opera,  according  to  Rousseau,  it  was  two  francs. 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   MUSIC  127 

spirit,  which,  in  its  various  manifestations,  seemed  to 
divide  the  public  into  two  camps,  and  was  greeted  on 
one  side  with  fervent  enthusiasm,  on  the  other  with 
the  fiercest  opposition.  In  more  modern  times  it 
might  be  both  possible  and  instructive  to  discover  a 
chain  of  connection  which  should  unite  into  one  con- 
crete whole  "The  Origin  of  Species,"  the  pictures 
of  the  Pre-Raphaelite  Brotherhood,  the  Operas  of 
Wagner,  the  political  economy  of  Ruskin,  the  novels 
of  Thomas  Hardy  and  the  plays  of  Mr  Bernard  Shaw. 
But  in  the  days  of  the  Encyclopedia  the  revolt  against 
convention  invaded  the  different  provinces  of  intellec- 
tual activity  almost  simultaneously,  and  the  lines  on 
which  it  proceeded  were  far  more  narrowly  traced  than 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  hence  tended,  at  least 
in  appearance,  to  a  much  greater  unity  of  purpose.  It 
may  seem  far-fetched  to  enumerate  the  controversy 
concerning  French  versus  Italian  music  as  one  of  the 
effects  of  the  Encyclopedic  movement,  but  it  was  evi- 
dently so  regarded  by  contemporaries,  and  the  most 
active  partisans  on  the  side  of  musical  innovations — 
Grimm,  Diderot,  Rousseau,  and  d'Alembert  himself — 
were  among  the  recognised  leaders  of  the  philosophi- 
cal party. 

The  quarrel  arose  after  this  fashion.  In  the 
autumn  of  1752  an  Italian  company  visited  Paris,  and 
were  allowed  to  perform  at  the  Opera  House,  which 
at  that  time  adjoined  the  Palais  Royal.  They  gave 
several  pieces  by  Pergolesi  and  other  Italian  com- 
posers which  were  hailed  by  a  large  proportion  of  the 
audience  as  a  welcome  variation  from  the  so-called 
French  music  of  Lulli,  Rameau,  and  their  followers. 
In  the  conservative  section  of  the  public,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  excited  a  disapprobation  quite  as  intelligent 


128 

as  that  which  Wagner  within  our  own  memories 
aroused  in  the  British  concert  goer,  and  a  great  deal 
more  violent.  D'Alembert  in  one  of  his  letters  to 
Madame  du  Deffand  describes  the  opening  of  the  fray 
in  terms  which  leave  no  doubt  as  to  his  own  opinion 
concerning  its  merits. 

"We  have  been  having  some  excellent  Italian 
music  these  last  three  months.  This  music  is  really  a 
new  language  to  us  French  people,  and  far  superior 
to  ours  in  truthfulness,  liveliness,  and  expression.  I 
believe  we  are  going  to  have  a  schism  about  it  in  the 
Opera,  as  bad  as  the  one  we  have  in  the  Church." 

A  few  days  later  : 

"  People  say  I  am  at  the  head  of  the  Italian  faction, 
but  I  am  not  exclusive,  and  always  ready  to  admire 
French  music  when  it  is  good.  All  the  same  I  believe 
that  we  are  a  thousand  miles  behind  the  Italians  in 
this  matter." 

For  over  a  year  the  battle  raged  hotly.  Not  only 
did  it  supplant  all  other  topics  of  conversation,  but  it 
gave  rise  to  an  enormous  number  of  pamphlets,  of 
which  only  two  (both  on  the  Italian  side),  are  now 
remembered — "  The  Little  Prophet  of  Bcehmisch- 
broda,"  by  Grimm,  and  Rousseau's  "  Letter  upon 
French  Music."  "The  Little  Prophet"  was  a  humor- 
ous production  much  admired  by  Voltaire,  but 
Rousseau's  contribution  to  the  discussion  was  marked 
by  his  usual  vituperative  earnestness.  He  pours  forth 
the  vials  of  his  wrath  upon  French  composers,  French 
music,  French  musicians,  and  the  French  language 
after  a  fashion  which  inclines  us  to  consider  the  sub- 
sequent withdrawal  of  his  right  of  free  admission  to 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   MUSIC  129 

the  Opera  a  pardonable  retort  on  the  part  of  the 
authorities.  He  himself  and  his  friends  firmly  believed 
that  he  went  in  danger  of  death,  or  at  the  very  least 
of  banishment,  and  it  is  certain  that  party  feeling 
ran  very  high,  and  that  the  devotees  of  French  music, 
strong  in  the  support  of  Madame  de  Pompadour,  who 
had  espoused  their  side,  were  anxious  to  enlist  the 
authority  of  the  Throne  itself  against  their  opponents. 
In  order  to  realise  the  situation  we  must  remember 
that  the  Opera,  like  the  Come"die  Franchise,  was  in 
direct  dependence  upon  the  King,  the  actors  at  both 
establishments  being,  theoretically,  in  his  service,  and 
known  by  the  title  of  "  Come"diens  du  Roi,"  and  his 
Majesty  had  an  undoubted  right  to  decide  what  music 
should  be  performed  in  his  own  theatre. 

But  though  engaged  in  an  unequal  contest,  the 
partisans  of  Italian  music  held  their  own  gallantly, 
and,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of  the  brooding  Jean- 
Jacques  and  the  severe  d'Alembert,  seem  to  have  got 
a  great  deal  of  amusement  out  of  the  fray.  It  was 
their  custom  on  Opera  nights,1  to  muster  in  force  in 
that  corner  of  the  pit  immediately  below  the  box  set 
apart  for  the  Queen.  Their  opponents,  on  their  side, 
stationed  themselves  beneath  the  box  reserved  for 
the  King,  and  the  two  parties  were,  hence,  colloquially 
known  as  the  Queen's  and  the  King's  Corner  respec- 
tively. The  strife  of  tongues  was  carried  on  with 
great  spirit  by  these  opposing  factions  until  the  con- 
servative party  determined  on  bringing  matters  to 
a  climax  by  a  coup  d'dtat.  A  Gascon  composer,  one 
Mondonville,  much  in  favour  at  Court,  had  written  a 
mediocre  opera,  which  at  this  delicate  conjuncture  he 
decided  upon  producing.  Though  reckoning  confi- 

1  Operatic  performances  were  held  only  three  times  a  week. 


130  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

dently  on  the  support  of  Madame  de  Pompadour,  and 
of  the  whole  patriotic  party,  he  felt  a  nervous  terror  of 
the  formidable  criticism  of  the  "Queen's  Corner,"  and 
entered  into  preliminary  negotiations  with  the  chiefs 
of  that  section,  humbly  promising  that,  if  they  would 
forbear  from  condemning  his  piece  on  the  first  night, 
he  for  his  part  would  make  it  his  business  at  once  to 
meet  their  wishes  by  composing  another  opera  quite 
in  the  Italian  style.  The  revolutionary  party  were, 
according  to  Grimm,  so  delighted  by  the  complacent 
self-sufficiency  of  this  undertaking  that  they  had  some 
thoughts  of  agreeing  to  the  compromise.  But  the 
decision  was  taken  out  of  their  hands  by  superior 
authority.  On  the  day  fixed  for  the  first  representa- 
tion of  Mondonville's  opera  the  whole  pit  was,  by 
Madame  de  Pompadour's  contrivance,  filled,  from 
twelve  o'clock  onwards,  with  the  King's  guards  from 
Versailles.  When  the  customary  occupants  of  the 
Queen's  Corner  arrived  at  the  usual  hour  they  found 
their  places  taken,  and  were  obliged  to  seek  standing 
room  either  in  "paradise"  (i.e.  the  gallery)  or  in  the 
corridors.  They  were  unable  to  see  the  stage  all 
evening,  but  vociferous  applause  from  gallant  and 
loyal  occupants  of  the  pit  assured  them  that  Mondon- 
ville's piece  was  enjoying  a  success  unparalleled  in 
the  annals  of  the  Opera. 

Backed  by  such  irresistible  arguments  the  triumph 
of  French  Opera  was  secure.  When  the  Italian 
troupe  was  finally  dismissed  from  Paris,  which  was 
not  for  some  time  later,  Grimm  proposed  that  the 
Queen's  Corner  should,  as  a  parting  stroke,  attend  their 
last  performance  in  mourning.  In  case  their  places 
in  the  pit  should  again  be  usurped  they  were  before- 
hand to  secure  two  front  boxes,  and  in  that  prominent 


PHILOSOPHY   AND   MUSIC  131 

position   pay   the   last    duties    to    Italian    music    by 
melancholy  silence  and,  if  possible,  tears.     The  de- 
lightful boyishness  of  the  proposition  makes  us  rather 
regret   that   it    was    not   adopted,    for  the   sufficient 
reason,  says  Grimm,  that  "the  mourners  would  in  all 
probability  have  been  requested  to  finish  the  funeral 
service  in  the  parish  church  of  the  Bastille."     As  it 
was,  d'Alembert,  whose  attitude  in  the  discussion  had 
made  him  obnoxious  to  Madame  de  Pompadour,  found 
his   hope   of  a   pension   from  the    King   indefinitely 
deferred,  and  President  He"nault,  a  devoted  admirer 
of  French  music,  had  now  a  public  as  well  as  a  private 
ground  of  enmity  against  him.     He  had  the  compen- 
sation,  however,  of  making   a  proselyte  in  Julie  de 
Lespinasse,  who  came  to  Paris  just  after  the  departure 
of  the  Italians,  and  while  the  echoes  of  the  contro- 
versy still    resounded.     That   d'Alembert   soon    con- 
verted her  to  his  views1  may  be  inferred  from  the 
humorous   disapprobation    expressed   by    He"nault    in 
the  highly  complimentary  "portrait"  already  referred 
to,  "You  don't  understand  music  a  bit!  "     It  is  rather 
piquant   to   imagine    d'Alembert    playing    airs    from 
Italian  compositions  on  the  harpsichord  and  entreating 
his  sympathising  disciple  to  compare  them  with  the 
home-grown  productions  which  are  now,  unhappily,  all 

1  When  Gluck,  about  twenty  years  later,  electrified  the  musical  world 
of  Paris,  Julie  was  among  his  warmest  admirers,  and  in  the  midst  of  a 
very  terrible  personal  trouble  found  some  consolation  in  going  over  and 
over  again  to  hear  his  opera  of  Orpheus.  Though  apparently  not 
musical,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term,  she  seems,  by  sheer  force  of  in- 
telligence, to  have  acquired  a  position  of  authority  as  a  critic  of  music  no 
less  than  of  literature.  Grimm,  writing  a  year  after  her  death,  observes 
that,  if  she  were  still  alive,  the  war  between  the  rival  schools  of  Gluck  and 
Piccini  which  was  then  raging,  and  which,  unlike  the  earlier  question  of 
French  versus  Italian  music,  had  created  a  schism  within  the  Encyclopedic 
camp  itself,  would  never  have  been  permitted  to  attain  its  present 
proportions. 


1 32  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

that  she  can  hope  to  hear  at  the  Opera  House.  Then 
the  president  enters,  and  the  subject  must  be  changed 
with  all  convenient  speed !  Every  indication  did 
indeed  appear  to  show  that  destiny  had,  to  use 
d'Alembert's  own  words,  intended  these  two  to  be- 
long to  one  another  all  through  life,  but  the  result 
was  far  from  being  such  as  he  then,  with  trembling 
hope,  foresaw.  - 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  NEW  THEOLOGY  AND  ITS  EXPONENTS 

D ' ALE M BERT  was  certainly  in  this  respect  more 
fortunate  than  the  conventional  lover  of  romance 
—that  he  was  far  from  having  leisure  to  brood  undis- 
turbed over  his  rising  passion  and  the  difficulties 
besetting  it.  To  say  nothing  of  scientific  research, 
the  work  of  the  Encyclopedia,  to  which  at  this  time 
he  devoted  himself  unsparingly,  made  large  demands 
upon  his  time  and  energy.  Like  most,  we  might  almost 
say  like  all,  of  the  leaders  in  this  undertaking  he  had 
been  religiously  brought  up.  The  teaching  staff  at 
the  College  des  Quatre  Nations,  pious  ecclesiastics  of 
the  Jansenist  way  of  thinking,  seem  to  have  maintained 
pleasant  and  kindly  relations  with  their  gifted  alumnus 
both  during  his  school  life  and  after  it,  and  were  at 
first  not  without  hopes  that  under  their  influence 
he  might  bring  his  intellect  to  the  support  of  their 
much  controverted  theological  tenets.  They  lent  him 
numerous  books  of  devotion,  by  which,  as  is  the  wont 
of  the  natural  man,  and  yet  more  of  the  natural  boy, 
he  was  exceedingly  bored,  and  when  he  amicably 
declined  to  pursue  this  line  of  study  any  further  they 
suggested  that  he  would  perhaps  find  controversy 
more  interesting.  Anything  like  a  train  of  reasoning 
had  always  a  strong  fascination  for  d'Alembert,  and 
he  managed  to  read  through  a  large  portion  of  the 
theologico  -  polemical  works  recommended  to  him 
with  about  the  same  degree  both  of  interest  and  edi- 


134  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

fication  as  that  derived  by  Stalky  and  his  friends  from 
"Eric"  and  "  St  Winifred's." 

The  theory  that  it  was  this  intimate  study  of 
theology  which  drove  d'Alembert  into  the  anti- 
theological  camp  is  tempting  in  its  epigrammatic 
fitness,  but  probably  far  wide  of  the  mark.  Most 
likely  he  could  not  himself  have  clearly  explained  by 
what  circumstance,  or  by  whose  influence,  he  was  led 
to  renounce  all  belief  in  revealed  religion,  for  the 
truth  is  that  scepticism  was  then  in  the  air.  To  trace 
to  its  origin  the  great  wave  of  free  thought  which  in 
the  eighteenth  century  swept  over  France  would  here 
be  plainly  impossible.  It  will  be  sufficient  briefly  to 
notice  three  great  books,  all  dating  from  about  the 
middle  of  the  century,  and  supposed  to  indicate  the 
high-water  mark  to  which  that  incoming  flood  had  by 
this  time  attained.  These  are  Montesquieu's  "Esprit  des 
Lois,"  published  in  1/48  ;  Buffon's  "  Natural  History" 
(1749),  and  the  Encyclopedia  itself,  of  which  the  first 
volume  appeared  in  1751.  The  casual  modern  reader 
unacquainted  with  the  conditions  under  which  these 
three  works  were  produced  might  well  feel  some  sur- 
prise at  the  storm  of  terrified  rage  excited  by  them  in 
the  clerical  party.  From  a  twentieth-century  point  of 
view  the  orthodoxy  of  the  writers  would  seem,  so  far 
as  outward  expression  is  concerned,  unimpeachable, 
and  even  a  little  excessive.  But  when  circumstances 
are  known  to  be  such  that  no  author  can  openly  say 
what  he  really  means,  the  art  of  reading  between  lines 
and  interpreting  reticences  is  brought  to  a  perfection 
scarcely  conceivable  by  those  accustomed  to  a  better 
condition  of  things.  In  the  France  of  those  days  no 
book  could,  in  the  first  place,  be  published  at  all  unless 
it  obtained  the  approval  of  a  censor  appointed  for  this 


NEW  THEOLOGY  AND  ITS  EXPONENTS    135 

purpose  by  Government.  Once  published  it  might  at 
any  moment  be  suppressed  if  anything  of  a  seditious 
or  irreligious  tendency  was  discovered  and  pointed  out 
to  the  authorities  by  competent  persons,  and  very 
serious  consequences,  extending  to  exile  and  imprison- 
ment and,  by  the  letter  of  the  law,  even  to  death 
might  befall  both  author  and  publisher. 

It  is  plain  that  under  such  a  system  no  one  who 
aimed  at  making  himself  heard  could  afford  to  display 
any  open  disrespect  for  established  institutions,  political 
or  religious,  and  this  the  conservative  party  thoroughly 
understood,  and  were  wary  accordingly.  In  vain  did 
Montesquieu  lavish  his  pity  on  countries  "so  un- 
fortunate as  to  have  a  religion  not  given  by  God." 
The  theologians  were  quite  acute  enough  to  see  that 
for  him  all  religions  had  a  value  differing  in  degree 
rather  than  in  kind.  In  vain  did  Buffon  censure  the 
impiety  of  English  scientists  in  endeavouring  to  bring 
the  Deluge  within  the  domain  of  physical  law.  They 
put  the  right  interpretation  on  his  grave  profession  of 
faith  :  "  No  characteristic  of  a  miracle  is  so  unmistak- 
able as  the  impossibility  of  explaining  its  effects  by 
natural  causes,"  and  his  careful  enumeration  of  all  the 
reasons  which  rendered  untenable  any  but  a  miraculous 
explanation  of  the  Flood  as  described  in  Genesis.  In 
vain  did  d'Alembert,  the  hardest,  though  the  most 
cautious,  hitter  of  the  three,  profess  his  astonishment 
that  divines  should  foresee  any  danger  from  "the 
weak  attacks"  of  reason  upon  a  Faith  "sent  down 
from  Heaven  to  men,"  and  "guaranteed  by  the 
promises  of  God  Himself."  His  critics  were  fully 
sensible,  as  he  certainly  intended  that  they  should  be, 
of  the  irony  underlying  this,  and  in  a  yet  more  marked 
degree  the  following  pronouncement : — 


136  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

"  Besides,  however  absurd  a  religion  may  be  (and 
only  impiety  could  bring  such  a  reproach  against  ours), 
it  is  never  philosophers  who  destroy  it.  Even  when 
they  teach  the  truth,  they  content  themselves  with  the 
bare  demonstration,  and  do  not  force  anyone  to 
acknowledge  it."1 

Unlike  the  majority  of  modern  English  agnostics, 
d'Alembert,  with  all  his  party,  fell  into  the  grievous, 
but  for  them  scarcely  avoidable,  error  of  identifying 
Christianity  with  the  only  form  of  it  familiar  to  them- 
selves— with  the  Romish  Church,  that  is,  as  it  existed 
in  France  during  that  period  of  accumulated  ineptitude 
and  corruption  preceding  the  great  Revolution.  Every 
attack  on  orthodoxy  meant  for  him  a  blow  struck 
against  ignorance,  deceitfulness,  and  intolerance,  and 
that  high  standard  of  duty  which,  unlike  many  of 
the  Encyclopedists,  he  had  saved  out  of  the  wreck 
of  religious  beliefs,  was  only  an  additional  motive 
force  to  urge  him  onward  in  the  fray. 

The  circumstances  through  which  that  blessed  word 
Encyclopedia  (sufficiently  familiar,  though  in  a  slightly 
different  connection,  to  modern  ears)  became  the 
battle-cry  of  a  disintegrating  and  reforming  move- 
ment are,  in  themselves,  by  no  means  remarkable. 
Le  Breton,  a  Parisian  bookseller,  or,  as  we  should  say, 
publisher,  had  formed  the  project  of  bringing  out  a 
French  version  of  the  "Cyclopedia,  or  Universal 
Dictionary  of  the  Arts  and  Sciences,"  by  Ephraim 
Chambers,  published  in  1727.  Before  the  work  of 
translation  was  accomplished  the  person  to  whom 
it  had  been  entrusted  died,  and  Le  Breton  thereupon 
had  recourse  to  Diderot,  who  was  known  to  possess 
the  qualification,  then  rather  unusual,  of  being  a  good 

1  "  Discours  preliminaire  de  1'Encyclopedie." 


DIDEROT 

AFTER   GREUZE 


NEW  THEOLOGY  AND  ITS  EXPONENTS    137 

English  scholar.  His  fertile  brain  conceived  the  idea 
of  recasting  the  work  of  Chambers  and  giving  to  it 
a  much  wider  scope.1  The  scheme  was  approved  by 
Le  Breton,  who,  in  partnership  with  three  other 
publishers,  undertook  all  the  expenses  of  produc- 
tion. Diderot  was  appointed  editor  in  chief  at  a  salary 
of  fifty  pounds  a  year,  and  d'Alembert  assistant-editor 
on  the  same  terms.  These  two  enlisted  the  services 
of  some  fifty  or  sixty  collaborators,  many  of  them 
distinguished  men,  who  in  most  cases  desired  no 
payment  for  their  contributions.  The  Encyclopedia, 
which  appeared  volume  by  volume,  sold,  when 
completed,  for  from  thirty  to  forty  pounds.  The 
total  profits  of  the  publishers  are  said  to  have 
amounted  to  over  ,£100,000,  an  enormous  sum  for 
that  period. 

So  remarkable  a  financial  success  bears  sufficient 
testimony  to  the  attraction  possessed  by  any  book 
which,  under  a  despotic  Government  and  an  intolerant 
religious  system,  is  thought  to  aim  at  the  subversion  of 
both  these  institutions — an  attraction  lacking  to  the 
best-advertised  encyclopedia  of  our  own  experience. 
Such  was  indeed  to  some  extent  the  object  which 
Diderot  and  d'Alembert,  ably  supported  by  Voltaire 
and  other  coadjutors  selected  as  sharing  their 
opinions,  had  set  before  themselves.  Though  the 
fear  of  the  censor  was  inevitably  ever  before  their 
eyes,  they  still  managed  to  insinuate  their  views  in 
every  possible  connection,  sometimes  with  much 
finesse,  and  sometimes  after  a  fashion  which  reminds 
us  of  Mr  Dick's  Memorial  and  the  head  of  Charles  the 
First.  But,  as  Mr  John  Morley  has  pointed  out,  we, 

'The   Encyclopedia  of  Chambers   was   comprised  in  two  volumes  ; 
that  of  Diderot  extended  over  seventeen,  besides  seven  of  illustrations. 


138  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

should  be  doing  the  Encyclopedists  a  great  injustice 
by  supposing  that  their  campaign  was  solely,  or  even 
primarily,  one  of  destruction.  The  encouragement  of 
industry,  the  diffusion  of  education,  above  all  the 
promotion  of  better  and  more  natural  relations  be- 
tween man  and  man,  the  inculcation  of  justice,  integrity 
and  humanity,  were  prominent  items  in  their  pro- 
paganda, and  the  eagerness  with  which  these  doctrines 
were  received  plainly  showed  that  they  appealed  to 
aspirations  already  stirring  in  the  hearts  of  many 
readers. 

These  softer  impulses,  known  in  the  language  then 
current  as  the  return  to  Nature  and  the  cultivation  of 
sensibility,  did  indeed  almost  everywhere  show  them- 
selves side  by  side  with  the  fiercer  instinct  of  revolt. 
Throughout  the  literature  of  the  day  their  existence  can 
plainly  be  traced,  especially  in  that  passion  for  English 
fiction  which  was  just  becoming  a  fashionable  craze. 
The  eyes  of  all  the  Encyclopedist  faction  were  in 
those  days  turned  longingly  towards  England  as  a 
country  administered  on  principles  of  liberty,  tolera- 
tion, and  philanthropy  which,  though  falling  far  short 
of  latter-day  aspirations,  were  much  in  advance  of 
those  acknowledged  in  France.  Their  Anglomania, 
as  it  was  called,  received  a  strong  additional  impetus 
from  the  publication  of  Richardson's  novels,  which  were 
translated  into  French  almost  as  soon  as  they  appeared 
in  English.  That  passion  for  accurate  and  realistic  de- 
tail, which  with  Richardson  was  almost  an  obsession, 
had  a  strangely  stimulating  effect  when  contrasted 
with  the  complete  artificiality  of  current  French  fiction. 
Besides  this,  the  reading  public  had  an  admiration 
for  virtue,  quite  as  "  Platonic  "  certainly  as  Carlyle's 
enthusiasm  for  silence,  yet  genuine  in  its  way  ;  and 


NEW  THEOLOGY  AND  ITS  EXPONENTS    139 

the  spectacle  of  Pamela  emerging  triumphant  from 
every  temptation,  and  rewarded  with  the  heart  and 
hand  of  her  repentant  admirer,  appealed  to  their 
sympathies  in  a  manner  rather  inexplicable  at  the 
present  day.  With  the  appearance  of  "  Clarissa," 
that  masterly  picture  of  an  ideal  woman  for  which 
"  Pamela"  had  been,  as  it  were,  the  crude  and  clumsy 
study,  public  enthusiasm  rose,  more  comprehensibly, 
to  fever  heat.  The  warm  life  which  still  palpitates 
through  every  page  of  those  eight  volumes  seemed 
a  veritable  revelation  to  minds  cloyed  with  perpetual 
unreality  and  convention.  They  were  charmed  more- 
over with  the  spirit  of  philanthropy  which,  within 
certain  closely  defined  limits,  is  always  conspicuous 
in  Richardson's  work.  Even  Lovelace,  it  will  be 
remembered,  was  a  good  landlord,  whose  tenants 
prospered  under  his  rule,  and  it  was  partly  this 
characteristic  of  his  which  led  Clarissa  to  think  that 
he  had  in  him  the  makings  of  a  decent  man.  As  for 
Pamela  and  her  excellent  (and  most  unreal !)  parents, 
were  they  not  glorious  examples  of  natural  worth 
triumphant  over  every  disadvantage  of  humble  station 
and  commanding  respect  from  all  classes  of  society  ? 
The  publication  in  1761  of  Rousseau's  "  Nouvelle 
Heloise "  marks  a  further  development  of  the  new 
fiction,  and  one  more  in  harmony  with  national,  or 
rather  with  racial,  habits  of  thought.  Our  first  impulse 
certainly  on  learning  that  some  minds  were  able  to 
trace  an  analogy  between  Rousseau's  Julie  and  Richard- 
son's Clarissa  is  one  of  indignant  amazement  :  but  we 
must  in  justice  remember  that  to  Rousseau's  public  the 
conception  of  a  girl  who  brings  a  past  to  the  altar, 
but  lives  it  down  and  becomes  a  model  wife,  was 
decidedly  an  effort  in  the  direction  of  virtue,  and  one, 


140  A   STAR   OF   THE    SALONS 

perhaps,  more  congenial  to  Latin  ideals  than  that  of 
an  absolutely  pure  nature  like  Clarissa's.  Proceeding 
in  our  comparison  between  the  two  authors  we  are  at 
once  struck  by  Rousseau's  immeasurable  inferiority 
to  Richardson  in  the  faculty  of  characterisation,  a 
faculty  indeed  almost  wholly  lacking  in  Jean-Jacques. 
But  on  the  other  hand  we  must  set  that  glowing  passion 
for  Nature,  which  Rousseau  may  be  said  to  have  first 
introduced  into  prose  fiction,  and  that  fermenting 
leaven  of  humanitarian  democracy,  hereafter  to  display 
itself  more  fully  in  "  Emile  "  and  the  "  Contrat  Social." 
Neither  of  those  mighty  ideals  was  anywhere  within 
the  range  of  Richardson's  accurate  but  restricted 
powers  of  vision. 

Plunged  suddenly  into  this  vortex  of  new  ideas, 
Julie  de  Lespinasse  assimilated  them  with  the  eager- 
ness which  might  be  expected  from  a  girl  of  ardent 
nature  who  had  never  yet  tasted  the  joy  of  a  free 
interchange  of  thought  with  men  intellectually  her 
superiors.  It  is  plain  that  the  books  which  were 
fashionable  during  the  earlier  years  of  her  abode  in 
Paris  had  a  strong  and  lasting  influence  in  fixing  the 
bent  of  her  opinions  and  sympathies.  To  the  end 
of  her  life  she  prized  the  "immortal  Richardson" 
above  all  other  authors.  She  "read  and  re-read" 
him  ;  at  first  doubtless  in  translations,  but  afterwards 
in  the  original.  "  My  soul  throbs  in  unison  with  the 
broken  heart  of  Clarissa,"  she  writes  twenty  years 
after  the  date  of  her  first  acquaintance  with  that  most 
lovable  of  heroines.  She  has  a  "passion"  for  Jean- 
Jacques,  whose  writings  have,  she  admits,  an  almost 
dangerous  fascination  for  her.  She  repeats  the  axioms 
of  Montesquieu  as  if  they  were  gospel.  For  years 
her  cherished  aspiration  is  to  meet  the  author  of  the 


NEW  THEOLOGY  AND  ITS  EXPONENTS    141 

"  Natural  History,"  though  when  the  introduction 
is  at  last,  through  the  interposition  of  a  good-natured 
friend  accomplished,  her  disillusionment  is  bitter  on 
hearing  the  great  man  reply  to  some  critical  remark 
about  the  difficulties  of  literary  style  :  "  Devil  take  it, 
that's  another  pair  of  shoes." l 

On  their  negative  side,  however,  the  new  doctrines 
never  obtained  such  complete  mastery  over  her  as 
over  her  mentor,  d'Alembert,  who  had  the  courage, 
rare  indeed  at  that  epoch,  to  pass  to  his  final  account 
unsustained  by  the  last  rites  of  the  Church,  thus 
calmly  forgoing  his  claim  to  Christian  burial.  Julie  de 
Lespinasse  could  not  bring  herself,  either  during  her 
lifetime  or  on  her  deathbed,  to  sever  all  outward  con- 
nection with  the  Faith  in  which  she  had  been  brought 
up,  but  that  the  sceptical  habit  had  invaded  her  whole 
mind,  and  left  her  doubtful,  and  sometimes  less  than 
doubtful,  concerning  the  teachings  of  that  Faith,  no 
one  familiar  with  her  letters  will  deny. 

Meanwhile  the  Encyclopedia  was  pursuing  its  tri- 
umphant but  by  no  means  unobstructed  career.  The 
first  two  volumes  had  appeared  and  the  third  was  in 
the  press  when  (in  February  1752)  the  whole  work 
was  suddenly  suppressed  by  Government.  For  some 
time  the  storm  raged  fiercely,  but  at  last  blew  over, 
and  in  November  1753,  the  prohibition  was  removed 
and  the  third  volume  permitted  to  appear.  D'Alem- 
bert had  during  that  year  stood  for  election  to  the 
Academy,  but  withdrew  his  candidature  on  learn- 
ing that  the  King  had  personally  interposed  to 
prevent  the  nomination  of  some  other  aspirants,  ob- 
noxious like  himself  to  the  ruling  powers,  and  that 
a  similar  exercise  of  the  royal  prerogative  was  to  be 
1  Sleeves  in  the  French  idiom. 


142  A    STAR    OF    THE   SALONS 

dreaded  in  his  own  case.  This  reverse,  which  he  was 
inclined  to  attribute  even  more  to  the  hostile  influence 
of  President  Henault  than  to  the  evil  reputation  of 
the  Encyclopedia,  was  deeply  felt  by  d'Alembert.  In 
his  letters  to  Madame  du  Deffand  he  is  liberal  in  his 
"don't  care"  protestations  with  regard  to  this  as  well 
as  other  disappointments,  but  these  lofty  professions 
by  no  means  imposed  upon  his  quickwitted  friend. 
She  had  set  her  heart  upon  seeing  him  a  member  of 
the  Academy,  and  on  her  return  to  Paris  began,  in 
spite  of  his  rather  surly  remonstrances,  to  work  to- 
wards the  accomplishment  of  that  object. 

Mingled  with  her  friendship  for  d'Alembert,  there 
was  a  touch  of  personal  ambition.  "  To  make  an 
Academician"  was,  for  a  Parisian  lady,  the  highest 
test  of  social  and  intellectual  supremacy.  In  the 
earlier  part  of  the  century  it  had  been  said  that  no- 
body who  had  not  obtained  the  approval  of  Madame 
de  Lambert  stood  a  chance  of  being  elected  to  the 
Academy.  In  days  to  come  an  impression  of  the  same 
kind  was  to  obtain  concerning  Mademoiselle  de  Les- 
pinasse.  Madame  du  Deffand,  who  came  between  the 
two,  coveted  for  her  own  part  a  share  of  this  distinc- 
tion, and  in  view  of  the  next  vacancy  among  the  Forty 
commenced  that  system  of  wire  pulling  which,  if  we 
are  to  believe  Daudet,  is  even  now  indispensable 
for  obtaining  entrance  to  the  Academy.  It  was  hard 
work,  for  one  of  the  rival  candidates  had  behind  him 
a  strong  party,  headed  by  a  certain  Duchesse  de 
Chaulnes,  who  chanced  to  be  one  of  Madame  du 
Deffand's  pet  aversions,  but  was  nevertheless  a  highly 
influential  person.  A  vigorous  campaign  of  canvassing 
ensued,  under  the  able  leadership  of  these  feminine 
generals  respectively.  The  good-natured  president, 


NEW   THEOLOGY  AND  ITS  EXPONENTS    143 

who  even  when  resentful  was  seldom  vindictive,  con- 
sented, on  Madame  du  Deffand's  entreaty,  to  overlook 
the  delinquencies,  chronological  and  musical,  of  her 
protege,  and  employed  his  influence,  considerable  in 
Court  circles,  to  support  the  candidature  of  d'Alem- 
bert.  Meanwhile  Julie  de  Lespinasse  looked  on  and 
learned  her  first  lesson  in  that  science  of  social 
diplomacy  for  which  she  was  hereafter  to  attain  such 
celebrity. 

The  election  took  place  at  the  end  of  November 
1754.  To  the  last,  the  result  seemed  doubtful,  for, 
setting  aside  the  fascinations  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Chaulnes,  a  noted  beauty  and  coquette,  her  favourite 
candidate,  the  Abbe  de  Boismont,  was,  in  his  clerical 
capacity,  and  having  regard  to  the  strong  ecclesias- 
tical element  within  the  Academy,  a  dangerous  com- 
petitor for  the  sub-editor  of  the  Encyclopedia.  But  in 
the  end  the  claims  of  science  prevailed  over  those  of 
clericalism,  and  d'Alembert  thus  attained  the  honour, 
to  which  no  Frenchman  is  ever  in  his  heart  insensible, 
of  ranking  among  the  "  immortal  "  Forty. 

His  position,  both  monetary  and  otherwise,  hence- 
forth steadily  improved,  and  for  two  or  three  years  the 
work  of  the  Encyclopedia  proceeded  in  comparative 
tranquillity.  But  in  1757  another  tempest  arose,  and 
one  which  had  the  disastrous  effect  of  dividing  the 
"  philosophic  "  party  against  itself.  In  the  summer  of 
1756  d'Alembert  had  allowed  himself  the  much-needed 
holiday  of  a  visit  to  Voltaire  at  his  country  house,  Les 
Delices.  For  many  years  he  had  maintained  a  corre- 
spondence with  the  illustrious  exile — the  "patriarch" 
of  the  Encyclopedist  faction — and  the  two  great  men 
professed  a  warm  mutual  admiration,  which  did  not 
always  prevent  them  from  saying  rather  spiteful  things 


144  A    STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

behind  each  other's  backs.  At  Les  Delices,  d'Alembert 
was  of  course  introduced  to  all  the  leading  men  in 
Genevan  society, including  several  Protestantministers, 
who  were  delighted  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  a 
person  so  distinguished.  Himself  endowed  with  all 
the  characteristic  virtues  of  Puritanism  and  with  not 
a  few  of  its  characteristic  defects,  d'Alembert  felt  a 
natural  affinity  for  these  clear-headed,  austere,  argu- 
mentative disciples  of  Calvin,  the  rather  because,  like 
the  Scottish  Church  in  our  own  day,  they  had  already, 
by  almost  insensible  degrees,  drifted  far  away  from 
the  hideous  doctrines  originally  imposed  upon  them 
by  their  founder.  It  was,  besides,  an  unusual  ex- 
perience for  him  nowadays  to  be  favourably  regarded 
by  ecclesiastics  of  any  persuasion,  and  he  determined 
that  the  intelligence  and  enlightenment  of  Geneva 
should,  under  the  letter  G.,  receive  due  honour  at  his 
hand  in  the  forthcoming  volume  of  the  Encyclopedia. 
Unfortunately,  his  eulogium  took  the  form  of  a 
statement  that  the  Genevan  clergy  had  virtually  lapsed 
into  Socinianism,  and  this,  though  from  d'Alembert's 
point  of  view  a  most  sincere  compliment,  was  not  so 
regarded  by  the  persons  chiefly  concerned.  The 
ministers,  horrified,  and  no  doubt  in  good  faith, 
at  the  interpretation  put  upon  their  large-minded 
theories  of  Biblical  criticism,  convoked  a  synod  for  the 
express  purpose  of  recording  their  protest  against  it. 
Nor  was  this  the  only  trouble  brought  upon  d'Alembert 
by  his  well-intentioned  article  on  "  Geneva."  At  the 
instigation,  doubtless,  of  Voltaire,  who  had  a  grievance 
of  his  own  against  the  Genevans  on  this  subject,  he 
had  qualified  his  encomium  by  expressing  regret  that 
in  a  city  otherwise  so  free  from  illiberal  prejudices, 
the  theatre,  for  which,  as  we  know,  d'Alembert  had 


NEW  THEOLOGY  AND   ITS   EXPONENTS     145 

himself  a  strong  liking,  should  be  regarded  as  a  device 
of  Satan.  This  suggestion  aroused  the  righteous  in- 
dignation of  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau,  that  strangest 
censor  of  morals,  who  was  now  tending  towards  his 
final  rupture  with  the  Encyclopedists,  and  was  not  ill- 
pleased  at  the  opportunity  of  avenging,  on  public 
grounds,  his  private  (and  chiefly  imaginary)  grievances 
against  them.  With  rather  less  than  his  usual 
eloquence,  and  even  more  than  his  usual  wrong- 
headedness,  he  denounced  the  pernicious  attempt  of 
d'Alembert  to  corrupt  the  pure  morality  of  Geneva  by 
introducing  such  soul-destroying  influences  as  those 
of  the  stage.  D'Alembert  replied,  and  a  vigorous 
controversy  ensued. 

There  were  difficulties  from  without  no  less  than 
from  within.  The  attempted  assassination  of  the 
King  by  Damiens  (in  January  1757)  had  strengthened 
the  antipathy  of  the  ruling  powers  to  any  literature 
suspected  of  a  subversive  tendency.  Early  in  1759 
the  Encyclopedia,  which  had  now  got  as  far  as  the 
seventh  volume,  was  again  suppressed.  The  prohibi- 
tion was  soon  withdrawn,  but  meanwhile  d'Alembert, 
disgusted  by  such  a  combination  of  calamities,  had  de- 
cided on  abandoning  his  editorial  position.  It  must  be 
owned  that  few  things  in  his  life  became  him  less  than 
this  desertion,  by  which  the  whole  burden  of  complet- 
ing the  work  was  thrown  upon  his  more  loyal  colleague, 
Diderot,  who  in  vain  entreated  him  to  reconsider  his 
decision. 

If  we  may  believe  Diderot's  account  of  the  matter, 
the  standpoint  assumed  by  d'Alembert  was  by  no 
means  remarkable  for  moral  elevation.  He  was 
willing  to  go  on,  he  said,  if  their  employers,  the  four 
booksellers,  would  raise  his  fees.  Fifty  pounds  a 


146  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

year,  though  worth  perhaps  three  times  as  much  then 
as  now,  was  certainly  no  adequate  recompense  for 
duties  so  onerous  and  responsible  as  his  ;  but  it  ap- 
pears that  he  had  received  bonuses  amounting  to 
between  three  and  four  hundred  pounds  additional. 
Of  this  Diderot  now  reminded  him,  and  was  met  with 
the  surprised  remonstrance,  so  strangely  modern  in  its 
tone  :  "What,  Diderot,  are  you  taking  sides  with  the 
publishers  ? " 

Lest  we  should  be  inclined  to  judge  d'Alembert  too 
hardly,  we  must  remember  that  he  had  already  devoted 
ten  years  of  his  life  to  the  Encyclopedia,  that  he  had 
many  other  claims  upon  his  attention,  and  that  he 
continued  to  undertake  the  supervision  of  mathematical 
articles,  and  in  other  ways  still  made  himself  very  use- 
ful to  Diderot.  The  great  work  was  finally  completed 
in  1764. 


' 


CHAPTER   XII 

OUTLAWS    BY    PROFESSION 

TJ  OUSSEAU,  as  d'Alembert  sarcastically  observed, 
JL^  had  this  advantage  over  most  persons  who  rail 
against  the  theatre,  that  he  had  himself  had  consider- 
able experience  of  the  evil  thing  which  he  would  fain 
have  withheld  others  from  touching.  It  was,  indeed, 
mainly  to  his  theatrical  and  operatic  productions  that 
he  owed  the  first  commencements  of  his  fame  ;  but 
such  irrelevant  trifles  as  his  own  practice  in  any  matter 
never  interfered  with  the  unselfish  concern  of  Jean- 
Jacques  for  the  morals  of  his  fellow-creatures. 

His  chief  argument  was  grounded  upon  the  pro- 
fligacy then  a  very  general  characteristic  of  the 
theatrical  profession,  and  the  corrupting  influence 
thus  exercised  upon  society  in  general  ;  and  he  under- 
took to  prove  that  a  virtuous  life  was,  by  the  nature 
of  things,  incompatible  with  the  duties  of  an  actor,  or 
more  especially  of  an  actress.  The  perpetual  counter- 
feiting of  the  passions,  the  incessant  appeal  to  public 
admiration,  the  elaborate  personal  adornment  habitual 
on  the  stage  must,  in  his  view,  inevitably  entail  the 
moral  degradation  of  women  obliged  to  practise  them, 
and,  once  corrupted,  the  actresses  (wicked  creatures) 
were  sure  to  drag  down  their  male  colleagues  to  their 
own  level. 

D'Alembert,  in  his  reply,  did  not  attempt  to  deny 
that  actresses  were  generally  immoral,  but  he  strenu- 
ously maintained  that  they  were  capable  of  much 
147 


148  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

better  things.  As  it  was,  there  were  many  who,  in 
spite  of  every  temptation,  long  retained  their  virtue, 
and  the  reason  that  so  few  persevered  to  the  end  was 
to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  no  encouragement  to  do 
so  was  offered  them.  If  something;  were  done  in  this 

o 

direction  they  would,  in  his  opinion,  become  "the 
best-conducted  class  of  women  in  the  community." 

In  this  last  statement  d'Alembert  certainly  makes 
some  approach  to  the  wilful  exaggeration  of  his  oppo- 
nent, yet  perhaps  the  difference  in  their  views  con- 
cerning the  robustness  of  female  virtue  is  scarcely 
more  than  we  might  naturally  expect  to  exist  between 
a  man  of  austere  morals  and  a  man  notoriously  the 
reverse.  But  d'Alembert  undoubtedly  put  his  finger  on 
a  crucial  point  in  the  controversy  when  he  accounted 
for  the  prevalence  of  vice  by  the  slightness  of  the  en- 
couragement afforded  to  virtue.  What,  indeed,  did  it 
avail  an  actress  to  refuse  the  pleasures  of  sin  when, 
by  the  mere  fact  of  her  profession,  she  remained,  how- 
ever pure  her  life,  excluded  from  all  communion  with 
the  visible  Church  on  earth,  and,  as  devout  Catholics 
were  bound  to  believe,  from  all  hopes  of  heaven 
hereafter?  Can  we  greatly  blame  the  women  of  the 
Comedie  Francaise  for  the  shameless  effrontery  with 
which  they  flaunted  their  unauthorised  husbands  and 
illegitimate  children  when  we  remember  that  Christian 

o 

marriage  (and  civil  marriage  did  not  then  exist)  was 
refused  them  so  long  as  they  remained  on  the  stage  ? 

It  is  much  to  the  honour  of  the  philosophic  party 
generally  that  they  were,  like  d'Alembert,  earnest  in 
their  protest  against  this  unjust  and  barbarous  code. 
In  an  article  in  the  Encyclopedia  on  the  dramatic  pro- 
fession, Voltaire  takes  the  opportunity  of  represent- 
ing the  very  different  attitude  of  clerical  opinion  in 


OUTLAWS   BY   PROFESSION  149 

England,  where  he  himself  had  witnessed  the  in- 
terment of  "  Mademoiselle  Olfilds  "  l  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  "side  by  side  with  Newton  and  the  kings." 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that,  as  he  wrote,  he  was  in 
his  heart  contrasting  this  stately  ceremony  with  the 
stealthy,  midnight  burial  of  that  never-forgotten  friend 
of  his  youth,  the  gifted  Adrienne  Lecouvreur.  More 
than  once,  throughout  his  later  life,  when  the  question 
of  reconciliation  with  the  Church  arises,  we  find  him 
repeating :  "  I  don't  want  them  to  throw  me  in  the 
gutter  as  they  did  with  poor  Lecouvreur."  According 
to  d'Alembert,  it  was  on  the  ground  of  this  terrible 
example  that  the  "patriarch  "justified  his  feigned  sub- 
mission to  ecclesiastical  authority  on  his  deathbed. 
"  He  had,"  adds  d'Alembert  calmly,  "  a  great  aversion, 
/  do  not  know  why  (!),  to  this  method  of  interment," 
And  chivalrously  anxious  for  the  honour  of  his  ancient 
leader,  now  departed,  he  declares  that  he  had  en- 
couraged Voltaire  in  the  subterfuge  which,  for  him- 
self when  his  own  hour  came,  he  utterly  disdained. 

The  above  phrase,  "thrown  in  the  gutter,"2  though 
commonly  employed  concerning  the  burial  of  excom- 
municated persons,  must  not  be  too  literally  taken, 
suggesting  as  it  does  a  degree  of  horror  in  excess  of 
the  actual  facts.  It  merely  meant  that  the  bodies  of 
such  persons  might  not  rest  in  consecrated  ground. 
Sometimes  they  were  admitted  to  that  portion  of  the 
cemetery  reserved  for  unbaptised  infants,  but  there 
were  cases  in  which  the  clergy  refused  even  this 
measure  of  hospitality  to  the  dead.  Then  the  civil 
authorities  had  to  be  approached,  and  their  permission 
obtained  for  burial  in  some  unhallowed  and  secluded 
spot.  This  was  the  only  course  possible  in  regard  to 
1  Nance  Oldfield.  2  Jettd  k  la  voirie. 


150  A   STAR   OF   THE    SALONS 

Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  though  the  priest  who  excluded 
her  body  from  the  graveyard  of  her  parish  church 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  relying  on  her  for  assistance 
in  his  charities.  An  authorisation  was  granted  by 
the  Minister  of  Police  for  her  interment  by  night  in 
a  remote  corner  at  the  edge  of  the  Seine.  One  friend 
alone,  a  certain  M.  de  Laubiniere,  was  permitted 
to  attend  her  to  her  last  resting-place.  Voltaire,  in 
the  noble  poem  inspired  by  burning  indignation  at 
the  treatment  awarded  to  this  genius  of  the  tragic 
stage,  has  told  us  how  her  faithful  friend  "bore,  in 
charity,  that  form  but  yesterday  renowned  for  beauty, 
packed  away  in  a  hackney-coach,  to  the  margin  of  our 
river."  A  hole  was  dug  by  two  street  porters,  the 
body  was  hastily  thrust  in  and  covered  with  earth, 
and  so,  with  less  ceremony  than  is  often  bestowed  on 
the  funeral  of  a  dog,  the  last  rites  were  paid  to  this 
idol  of  the  Parisian  public.  The  exact  position  of  her 
grave  remained  unknown  to  the  world  for  nearly  half- 
a-century,  and  was  then  discovered  by  workmen  dig- 
ging the  foundations  of  a  house  to  be  raised  on  that 
spot.  During  the  Revolution  her  body  was  removed 
to  a  more  decorous  burial-place. 

The  actor  and  actress  were  under  the  ban  of  the 
State  no  less  than  under  that  of  the  Church.  Like 
the  married  wromen  of  our  own  country  within  the 
memory  of  some  of  us,  they  had  no  recognised  exis- 
tence in  law.  Members  of  the  Comedie  Francaise 
and  of  the  Opera  had,  indeed,  in  their  capacity  of 
"  King's  Comedians,"  certain  important  privileges. 
They  were  exempt  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  police 
and,  in  the  case  of  women,  from  parental  and  marital 
control,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  they  were  in  absolute 
subjection  to  the  Gentlemen  of  the  King's  House- 


OUTLAWS   BY   PROFESSION  151 

hold,  who  were  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  supervising 
them.  Every  action  of  their  professional  lives  was 
regulated  by  this  arbitrary  authority,  and  any  attempt 
at  rebellion  was  promptly  punished  by  an  indefinite 
term  of  imprisonment.  Yet  it  is  the  strangest 
characteristic  of  a  strange  situation  that  these  out- 
lawed and  excommunicated  beings  had  by  no  means 
to  complain  of  the  social  stigma  which,  in  nations  and 
periods  otherwise  far  more  tolerant,  has  often  attached 
to  their  profession.  An  actress  of  any  celebrity  was 
made  welcome  in  the  most  aristocratic  Parisian  circles, 
and  not  only  great  nobles,  but  their  wives,  took  pride 
in  numbering  her  among  their  acquaintance.  The 
fine  ladies  of  the  Ancien  Regime  did  not,  to  do  them 
justice,  require  from  women  of  inferior  social  position 
a  higher  moral  standard  than  that  which  they  them- 
selves acknowledged,  and  they  had,  in  general,  a 
keen  appreciation  for  talent. 

The  seething  resentment  engendered  by  so 
anomalous  a  condition  of  things  was  brought  to  a 
culminating  point  on  the  appearance  of  Rousseau's 
diatribe  against  the  theatre,  which  was  the  signal  for 
a  vehement  warfare  on  paper.  Amongst  those  who, 
besides  d'Alembert,  appeared  as  advocates  for  the 
defence,  were  many  members  of  the  anathematised 
profession,  and  chief  of  them  Mademoiselle  Clairon, 
the  celebrated  tragic  actress,  then  at  the  height  of 
her  reputation.  Though  by  no  means  so  attractive 
a  personality  as  poor  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  Clairon 
was  by  nature  a  reformer — a  circumstance  which, 
perhaps,  accounts  for  the  strong  sympathy  existing 
between  her  and  the  Encyclopedists — the  party  of 
reform.  She  imagined  the  bold  design  of  delivering 
herself  and  her  colleagues  from  the  stigma  of  excom- 


152  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

munication,  believing  that,  if  the  Church  could  be 
induced  to  lighten  her  hand,  the  State  would  soon 
follow  suit. 

Her  first  attempt  was  an  unfortunate  one.  Dis- 
trusting her  own  unaided  powers,  she  confided  the 
task  of  preparing  her  grand  petition  and  remonstrance 
to  a  lawyer,  one  M.  Huerne  de  la  Mothe.  This 
gentleman  accordingly  drew  up  a  statement  of  the 
case,  Stage  versus  Church,  which  showed  much  learn- 
ing, but  proved  so  obnoxious  to  the  susceptibilities  of 
those  in  authority  that  it  was  ordered  to  be  burnt  by 
the  common  hangman.  Undeterred  by  this  rebuff, 
Clairon  pursued  her  agitation,  incidentally  involving 
herself  in  a  somewhat  unseemly  squabble  with  the 
Gentlemen  of  the  Household,  by  whom  she  was 
summarily  sent  to  prison  for  insubordination.  A 
tremendous  sensation  ensued,  and  Clairon,  on  her 
release,  determined,  with  the  warm  approval  of 
Voltaire  and  the  other  Encyclopedists,  to  abandon 
her  profession  unless  something  were  done  to  remedy 
the  intolerable  grievances  attaching  to  it. 

She  and  her  party  now  resorted  to  the  expedient 
of  petitioning  Louis  XV.  to  place  the  Comedie 
Francaise  on  the  same  footing  as  the  Opera,  which, 
by  a  curious  contradiction,  was  subject  to  no  anath- 
ema, civil  or  religious.  A  memorial,  this  time  most 
carefully  drawn  with  much  help  from  Voltaire, 
was  presented  in  1766  for  that  purpose  to  the  King, 
but  he  refused  to  entertain  any  such  project,  and  the 
whole  scheme  fell  through.  Clairon,  true  to  her 
threat,  left  the  Comedie  Francaise,  and  appeared 
henceforth  only  at  quasi-private  performances  in 
the  houses  of  the  great.  The  first  use  she  made  of 
her  liberty  was  to  effect,  somewhat  ostentatiously,  that 


OUTLAWS   BY   PROFESSION  153 

reconciliation  with  the  Church  which,  on  her  own 
showing,  she  had  always  most  ardently  though  vainly 
desired. 

The  pose  maintained  throughout  by  Clairon,  of  a 
pious  Christian  unjustly  excluded  from  the  consolations 
of  religion,  may  well  excite  a  smile  if  considered  in 
conjunction  with  her  manner  of  life,  which  was  at  no  time 
remarkable  either  for  sobriety,  righteousness,  or  godli- 
ness. Yet,  though  quite  as  singular  a  reformer  as  her 
enemy,  Jean-Jacques  himself,  we  cannot  deny  her  the 
possession  of  a  reforming  instinct  almost  as  powerful 
in  its  way  as  his  own.  She  failed,  indeed,  in  effecting 
the  reform  which  she  had  most  at  heart  (and  which 
delayed  its  coming  in  full  for  nearly  a  century  longer), 
but  her  influence  on  the  traditions  of  the  national 
drama  was  equally  beneficent  and  enduring.  Like 
most  French  actors  in  those  days  she  was  born  to 
a  humble  and  not  over  -  reputable  station  in  life. 
Destined  by  a  poor  but  far  from  honest  mother  to 
the  profession  of  seamstress,  she  showed  from  the 
first  an  unconquerable  aversion  to  the  drudgery  of 
the  needle.  The  true  dramatic  vocation  was  entwined 
with  every  fibre  of  her  being,  and  before  she  had  ever 
seen  a  theatre  she  learned  the  first  lessons  in  stage- 
craft by  watching  from  her  bedroom  window  the 
private  rehearsals  of  an  actress  over  the  way.  Her 
mother  forbade  her  to  think  of  the  stage,  by  no  means 
on  account  of  the  moral  risks  thereby  involved,  which 
would  probably  have  been  much  the  same  had  the 
girl  continued  nominally  to  sew  for  her  living,  but 
out  of  awe  for  the  mysterious  penalties  of  excom- 
munication. Ultimately,  however,  Clairon,  then  aged 
thirteen,  carried  the  day,  and  after  some  years  of 
provincial  experience  made  her  first  appearance,  in 


154  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

1743,  at  the  Come'die  Frangaise,  in  the  character  of 
Phedre.  The  public  was  speedily  convinced  of  her 
genius,  and  a  few  more  years  made  her  the  acknow- 
ledged queen  of  the  Parisian  stage.  It  was  then  that 
she  executed  the  project  suggested  to  her  by  the 
dramatist  Marmontel,  in  whose  plays  she  had 
"created"  several  principal  roles,  and  with  whom 
her  relations  had  been  for  a  time  more  than  friendly, 
of  using  her  influence  to  emancipate  the  national 
theatre  from  the  bondage  of  sundry  bad  old  tradi- 
tions hitherto  unquestioned. 

It  had  been  till  then  considered  a  fundamental 
principle  of  histrionics  that  acting  should  not,  save 
in  comedy,  be  modelled  upon  Nature.  For  tragedy 
there  was  a  regulated  code  of  declamation  and  gesture, 
and  any  departure  from  it  was  supposed  to  be 
derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  the  cothurnus.  To  this 
curious  convention  was  added  an  entire  absence  of 
the  slightest  attempt  at  fitness  in  costume.  The 
players,  both  men  and  women,  were  dressed,  gener- 
ally with  great  magnificence,  in  the  height  of  con- 
temporary fashion.  When  we  remember  that  another 
Procrustean  law  restricted  the  range  of  tragedy  to 
far-past  (preferably  classical)  epochs,  we  can  imagine 
the  effect  produced  by  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans 
masquerading  in  powder  and  patches,  hoops  and 
trains,  ruffles  and  high  heels,  Court  coats  and  knee- 
breeches. 

It  may  truly  be  said  of  Clairon  that  she  changed 
all  this.  She  had  the  courage  to  break  through  the 
vicious  convention  of  sing-song  declamation  and  stilted 
gesture  and  "to  make  her  acting  an  intenser  form  of 
real  life,  rather  than  something  in  its  essence  apart  from 
reality.  Her  first  essay  on  these  new  lines  was  made 


OUTLAWS   BY   PROFESSION  155 

during  a  provincial  tour,  and  met  with  such  success  that 
she  was  encouraged  to  continue  the  same  method 
on  her  return  to  Paris.  Next  she  took  in  hand  the 
reformation  of  theatrical  costume,  beginning  with  the 
part  of  Electra  in  the.  two  tragedies  of  that  name  (by 
Voltaire  and  Cre"billon  respectively).  The  unfortunate 
Achaian  princess  had  hitherto  been  represented  by 
ladies  stylishly  attired  in  pink  satin  relieved  by  black 
jet  motifs.  Clairon  did  not  yet  venture  to  go  the 
length  of  anything  so  inelegant  as  a  Greek  chiton,  but 
she  compromised  matters  by  wearing  a  plain  black 
trailing  gown,  an  unfashionable,  and  indeed  untidy, 
coiffure,  and  no  perceptible  rouge  nor  powder.  Above 
all,  she  laid  aside  her  crinoline.  The  magnitude  of 
this  last  innovation  can  only  be  fully  evident  to  those 
who  realise  the  prominent  part  usurped  by  this  article 
of  dress  in  the  social  life  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
when  ball  invitations  bore  requests  to  ladies  to  come 
sans panier,  and  when  the  highest  virtue  which  long- 
suffering  masculinity  could  discern  in  a  woman  was 
that  the  circumference  of  her  skirt  should  want  a  yard 
of  the  fashionable  width.  Thanks  to  Mademoiselle 
Clairon,  the  panier  henceforth  disappeared,  at  least 
from  historical  tragedy.  Her  example  was  all-powerful 
with  the  "profession,"  and  the  2Oth  of  August  1754 
marks  an  important  epoch  in  the  annals  of  the 
Come'die  Fran9aise.  On  that  day  (about  four  months 
after  the  arrival  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse  in  Paris) 
Voltaire's  tragedy,  The  Orphan  of  China,  was  re- 
presented for  the  first  time,  and  the  newspapers 
record  as  an  unprecedented  circumstance  that  all  the 
actresses  in  this  performance  appeared  sans  panier. 
Not  only  so,  but  some  sort  of  attempt  was  made  at 
least  to  suggest  the  Chinese  costume  by  a  compromise 


156  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

which  would  doubtless  appear  laughable  enough  to  us 
now,  but  was  certainly  a  step  in  the  right  direction. 
The  reform  thus  inaugurated  was  extended  by  the 
energetic  Clairon  throughout  the  whole  theatrical 
repertoire.  On  one  occasion  she  carried  her  devotion 
to  realism  so  far  as  to  dress  the  part  of  a  heroine 
suddenly  aroused  from  sleep  in  a  simple  robe-de-nuit, 
thereby  (who  would  have  thought  it  ?)  greatly  scandal- 
ising the  decorous  instincts  of  her  audience.  Courage 
indeed,  and  not  only  courage  but  disinterestedness, 
was  required  for  her  work  of  innovation,  for  the  whole 
of  her  rich  stage  wardrobe — which  represented,  she 
said,  a  cost  of  over  £1200,  and  might  under  the  old 
conditions  have  served  to  the  end  of  her  career — was 
henceforth  of  no  use  to  her. 

Her  example  was  all  powerful  with  regard  to 
naturalness  in  acting  no  less  than  in  dress,  and  for  the 
amelioration  which  she  effected  in  both  these  direc- 
tions she  received  the  warmest  encomiums  from  the 
whole  philosophic  party.  Marmontel  singled  her  out 
for  special  panegyric  in  his  Encyclopedia  article  on 
"  Declamation."  D'Alembert  wrote  that  Mademoiselle 
Clairon's  talents  were  above  his  praise  ;  that  she  was 
true  to  Nature  alike  in  her  acting  and  her  costume, 
and  that  her  example  had  rendered  great  services  to 
the  Theatre  Fran9ais,  and  even  to  the  Opera.  But 
Diderot,  not  perhaps  from  entirely  disinterested 
motives,  was  the  most  enthusiastic  of  all.  The  fact 
was  that  he  had  his  own  pet  project  in  the  matter  of 
theatrical  reform,  involving  no  less  an  achievement 
than  the  introduction  of  a  species  of  drama  new  to 
the  French  stage,  and  he  naturally  considered  the 
co-operation  of  this  influential  actress  a  supremely 
desirable  thing. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON 

FROM    AN    ENGRAVING    BY   COCHIN    IN    THE 
BIBLIOTHEQUE  NATIONALE 


OUTLAWS   BY   PROFESSION  157 

The  traditions  of  the  national  theatre  had  hitherto 
drawn  a  sharp  dividing  line  between  the  respective 
spheres  of  tragedy  and  comedy,  the  one  being,  on  the 
whole,  restricted  to  great  historical  or  mythological 
themes,  and  the  other  to  the  domestic  or  more  humble 
side  of  existence.  Diderot  proposed  to  alter  all  this 
by  introducing  a  kind  of  serious  drama,  not  properly 
either  tragic  or  comic,  which  should  be  written  in 
prose  instead  of  stately  Alexandrines,  and  deal  with 
the  facts  and  emotions  of  everyday  contemporary  life. 
In  furtherance  of  this  excellent  design,  he  produced 
two  plays  (The  Natural  Son,  1757,  and  The  Father 
of  the  Family,  1758),  neither  of  which  obtained  for 
some  time  the  honour  of  representation,  but  which, 
notwithstanding,  aroused  a  considerable  ferment  in 
the  literary  world.  To  modern  taste  these  pioneer 
productions  seem  insipid  and  incoherent  enough  ; 
but  in  their  own  day  they  gained  the  approval  of  so 
competent  a  critic  as  Lessing,  and  they  certainly  mark 
an  era  in  the  development  of  French  drama.  Like 
most  innovations  favoured  by  the  Encyclopedists  (who 
were  understood  to  stand  together  in  all  such  enter- 
prises), the  "  new  drama"  met  with  a  storm  of  opposi- 
tion from  the  conservative  party. 

An  unlucky  chance  embittered  the  controversy  still 
further,  by  introducing  what  is  euphemistically  termed 
"  the  personal  note."  The  Princesse  de  Robecq, 
daughter  of  the  Marechal  de  Luxembourg  by  his 
first  marriage,  a  lady  who  contrived  to  combine  a 
consuming  zeal  for  religion  with  a  way  of  life  by 
no  means  religious,  and  had  taken  part  prominently 
against  the  Encyclopedists,  considered  herself  affronted 
by  a  reference  in  one  of  Diderot's  many  "introduc- 
tions." (In  the  matter  of  lengthy  prefaces  to  his 


158  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

plays  he  was  quite  as  unmerciful  as  Mr  Bernard 
Shaw.)  Nobody  now  seems  able  to  identify  the 
passage  in  question,  and  Diderot  himself  strenuously 
denied  that  he  had  ever  had  any  offensive  intention, 
but  the  Princess,  whose  morbid  resentment  was 
doubtless  aggravated  by  ill-health,  continued  to 
brood  over  her  wrong,  and  to  seek  some  means  of 
revenge.  She  found  an  instrument  ready  to  her  hand 
in  one  Charles  Palissot,  an  indifferent  critic  and 
more  than  indifferent  playwright,  who,  at  her  instiga- 
tion, composed  The  Comedy  of  tke  Philosophers,  a 
miserable  parody  of  the  Femmes  Savantes,  in 
which  Diderot  and  his  most  prominent  associates 
were,  under  the  thin  disguise  of  pseudonyms,  held 
up  to  ridicule  as  the  most  odious  and  contemptible  of 
men.  The  satire  of  Moliere's  delightful  comedy  was 
probably  quite  as  unjust  and  ill-directed  as  that  of 
Palissot's  imitation,  but  the  one  is  a  work  of  genius, 
the  other  devoid  of  even  the  most  superficial  clever- 
ness. Such  as  it  was,  however,  it  found  favour  with 
Madame  de  Robecq,  who  exerted  all  her  influence  to 
have  it  produced  at  the  Comedie  Fran9aise. 

Her  interest  at  Court  was  sufficient  to  remove  any 
obstacles  in  that  direction,  and  the  actors  (to  whose 
collective  judgment  a  new  play  was  then  submitted 
for  approval,  instead  of  to  a  comite"  de  lecture  as  now) 
declared  themselves,  with  one  exception,  in  favour  of 
an  author  so  excellently  patronised.  Clairon  alone, 
faithful  to  her  friends  the  Encyclopedists,  raised  her 
voice  against  Palissot  and  all  his  works,  but  she 
was  overborne,  and  the  first  representation  of  Les 
Philosopher  took  place  on  2nd  May  1760.  The 
Princesse  de  Robecq  was  then  within  two  months 
of  her  death  from  lung-disease,  but,  sustained  by  the 


OUTLAWS   BY   PROFESSION  159 

feverish  energy  peculiar  to  consumptive  patients,  she 
appeared  on  this  first  night  in  the  house,  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  Palissot,  who  was  honoured  with  a 
seat  in  her  box.  Her  deathlike  appearance  made 
a  strong  and  painful  impression  on  the  audience,  and 
before  the  end  of  the  First  Act  she  turned  faint,  and 
was  obliged  to  go  out. 

A  few  days  later  there  appeared  an  anonymous 
pamphlet,  entitled  "The  Vision  of  Charles  Palissot," 
which  had  been  surreptitiously  printed  at  Lyon, 
and  was  hawked  about  Paris  by  colporteurs.  It 
was  an  extremely  able  satire,  written  by  the  Abbe 
Morellet  (the  author  of  several  theological  articles  in 
the  Encyclopedia),  and  it  dealt  with  Palissot  accord- 
ing to  his  deserts,  and  with  his  patroness  in  a  manner 
which  would  seem  inexcusably  harsh  but  for  Morellet's 
after  assurance  that  when  he  wrote  it  he  had  no  idea 
she  was  really  dying.  In  the  "  Vision,"  Palissot 
(represented  as  a  kind  of  Holy  Willie)  is  supposed 
to  review  the  past  events  of  his  (far  from  reputable) 
life,  and  to  foresee  with  triumphant  exultation  the 
pleasant  results  which  were  to  ensue  for  him  on 
his  devoting  himself  to  the  defence  of  religion. 
The  Princess  is  introduced  in  these  terms : 

"  And  we  shall  see  a  great  lady,  sick  to  death,  but 
desiring  for  all  consolation  that  she  may  live  long 
enough  to  be  present  at  the  first  performance  and  say, 
'  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace, 
for  mine  eyes  have  seen  revenge'  And  this  great 
lady  shall  found  by  her  will  a  pious  bequest,  for  ever 
to  buy  up  all  the  pit  tickets  whenever  the  comedy  is 
acted,  and  they  shall  be  given  away  for  the  love  of 
God,  to  people  who  will  undertake  to  applaud." 

To  outward  appearance,  the  dying  woman  received 


160  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

this  taunt  in  that  spirit  of  insolently  courageous  im- 
perturbability which  all  her  class  held  it  a  duty  to 
cultivate.  She  wrote  a  note  in  the  third  person  to 
Clairon,  whose  antipathy  to  Palissot  was  well  known, 
saying  that  she  was  "most  anxious"  to  see  the 
"vision,"  and  had  heard  that  Mademoiselle  Clairon 
had  some  copies  for  sale,  and  would  perhaps  oblige 
her.  The  great  actress  replied  with  dignity  that  she 
felt  convinced  an  insinuation  so  insulting  to  her  could 
never  have  proceeded  from  the  Prinoess  herself,  and 
that  the  note  containing  it,  which  she  returned,  was  no 
doubt  the  work  of  a  forger.  But  meanwhile  Palissot 
had  succeeded  in  procuring  a  specimen,  and  sent  it  to 
Madame  de  Robecq,  endorsed,  "with  the  author's 
compliments." 

This  treacherous  stratagem  had,  as  was  intended, 
the  effect  of  increasing  her  resentment  against  an 
enemy  apparently  so  insulting,  and  almost  the  last  use 
she  made  of  her  brief  remaining  span  was  to  engage 
the  minister  Choiseul,  formerly  her  lover,  to  wreak 
vengeance  on  the  anonymous  libeller.  Through  pres- 
sure put  on  one  of  the  colporteurs,  Morellet's  name 
was  discovered,  and  he  was  sent  to  expiate  his  error 
in  the  Bastille,  but  released  at  the  end  of  a  few  weeks, 
on  the  intercession  of  the  dead  woman's  stepmother, 
Madame  de  Luxembourg,  who  was  induced  by  his 
friends  Rousseau  and  d'Alembert  to  take  pity  on  him. 
So  ended  this  miserable  quarrel  which,  curiously 
enough,  was  destined  to  exercise  an  influence  on  the 
fortunes  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse  and  of  the  man  who 
silently  adored  her. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE    ROOT    OF    BITTERNESS 

r  I  'HE  comedy  of  The  Philosophers  had  aroused 
A  in  d'Alembert  a  strong,  and  to  a  large  extent  a 
personal,  feeling  of  resentment.  It  is  true  that  Palissot, 
as  in  his  private  duty  bound,  had  singled  out  Diderot 
for  especial  and  practically  undisguised  vituperation. 
But  there  is  little  doubt  that  d'Alembert  was  also, 
though  less  openly,  assailed  under  the  title  of  Valere, 
a  villainous  adventurer  who,  by  paying  assiduous  court 
to  a  rich  and  foolish  widow,  the  object  in  private  of 
his  mockery,  induces  her  to  promise  him  the  hand  of 
her  daughter  and  heiress,  while  shamelessly  avowing 
to  his  friends  that  he  has  no  love  for  the  girl,  who 
on  her  side  is  strongly  averse  to  him.  This  was  one 
of  those  libels,  at  once  feeble  and  remote  from  truth, 
which  theoretically  have  no  power  to  hurt,  and  in  prac- 
tice are  intensely  resented.  The  whole  contemporary 
world  was  agreed  that  good  sense  and  sound  judg- 
ment were  as  much  the  distinguishing  qualities  of 
Madame  Geoffrin  (the  lady  indicated)  as  disinterested- 
ness and  independence  of  d'Alembert.  It  was  true 
that  she  had  an  only  daughter  who  did  not  share  her 
mother's  predilection  for  the  Encyclopedists,  and  had 
perhaps  an  especial  objection  to  d'Alembert,  but  she 
had  been  married  some  twenty-seven  years  earlier  to 
a  nobleman  quite  unconnected  with  the  philosophic 
party.  Yet  the  fact  remains  that  d'Alembert  was 
deeply  wounded  by  this  miserable  caricature  and 
L  161 


1 62  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

displayed  his  indignation  in  a  far  from  philosophical 
fashion. 

"  I  have  not  been  to  see  it  [the  play],  and  do  not 
mean  to  go,"  he  writes  to  Voltaire  ;  and  finding  his 
correspondent  inclined  to  blame  Morellet  for  having 
"insulted  a  dying  woman,"  he  replies,  with  a  touch 
of  ferocity  :  "It's  all  very  well  to  be  a  dying  woman, 
but  one  need  not  be  a  viper  for  all  that.  You  cannot 
have  heard  of  the  shameless  way  in  which  Madame 
de  Robecq  intrigued  to  force  on  the  acting  of  Palissot's 
play  .  .  .  and  that  she  had  herself  carried  to  the 
theatre  on  the  first  night,  dying  though  she  is.  ... 
I  cannot  see  that  a  person  so  spiteful  and  vindictive 
as  that  deserves  any  pity  at  all.  .  .  .  Besides,"  he 
adds,  more  moderately,  "the  'Vision'  only  said  that 
she  was  very  ill,  and  that  is  surely  no  crime." 

It  must  be  owned  that  there  is  something  "not 
altogether  quite  nice "  about  such  language  when 
applied  to  a  woman  on  the  verge  of  death.  In  ex- 
tenuation it  may  be  urged  that  d'Alembert,  as  one 
of  the  Encyclopedist  leaders,  had  suffered  much  from 
the  enmity  of  Madame  de  Robecq.  The  same  excuse 
unluckily  cannot  be  alleged  for  the  very  similar  stream 
of  vituperation  which  he  poured  forth  upon  one 
who  had  proved  herself  a  kind  and  serviceable  friend 
to  him,  no  other,  in  fact,  than  Madame  du  Deffand 
herself.  He  was  firmly  convinced  that,  in  the  con- 
troversy with  which  all  Paris  was  ringing,  she  stood 
on  the  side  of  Palissot  against  himself  and  his  party. 
In  this  he  was  mistaken,  for  in  fact  she  satirised  both 
sides  with  much  impartiality.  The  Encyclopedists, 
excepting  Voltaire  and  d'Alembert  himself,  displeased 
her  fastidious  taste  by  their  deficiency  in  bon  ton,  and 
the  devout  faction  were  equally  obnoxious  to  her  from 


THE   ROOT   OF   BITTERNESS  163 

their  want  of  humour.  D'Alembert,  however,  on 
slender  evidence,  concluded  otherwise,  and  in  a  letter 
to  Voltaire  mentioned  her  as  one  of  the  avowed  pa- 
tronesses of  Palissot's  comedy,  adding  the  graceful 
implication  that  in  her  quality  of  superannuated  demi- 
mondaine  she  would  naturally  have  much  in  common 
with  a  modern  representative  of  the  same  profession 
such  as  Madame  de  Robecq.  Reflections  of  this 
kind  (expressed  in  language  much  too  vigorous  to 
be  literally  reproduced)  are  characteristic  of  d'Alem- 
bert,  and,  though  almost  a  relief  amid  the  boundless 
toleration  of  that  period,  they  certainly  show  that  he 
was  not  exempt  from  the  failings  commonly  supposed 
to  accompany  superior  virtue.  Madame  du  Deffand, 
however,  aided  in  a  measure  by  the  interposition  of 
Voltaire,  succeeded  in  clearing  herself  of  the  charge 
brought  against  her,  and  the  quarrel  was,  after  a 
fashion,  made  up,  but  on  the  man's  side  the  fire  still 
continued  to  smoulder,  and  four  years  later  it  blazed 
out  once  more,  and  this  time  only  to  be  quenched  by 
death. 

It  is  evident  indeed  that  his  ill-feeling  against 
Madame  du  Deffand  was  of  older  standing  than 
the  business  of  The  Philosophers,  since  otherwise  so 
serious  a  breach  would  scarcely,  on  so  slight  a  pretext, 
have  been  made  in  a  friendship  which  had  lasted 
for  seventeen  years.  By  one  who  had  no  liking 
for  d'Alembert  (the  daughter  of  Madame  Geoffrin, 
above  mentioned)  the  beginning  of  this  change  is 
assigned  to  a  certain  disastrous  day  when  he  accident- 
ally overheard  the  blind  woman  retailing  with  much 
enjoyment  to  a  circle  of  common  friends  some  sar- 
castic remarks  concerning  himself  contained  in  a  letter 
from  Voltaire.  There  is  no  antecedent  improbability 


164  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

in  any  portion  of  this  story.  D'Alembert,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  could  be  vindictive  enough,  and, 
though  Madame  du  Deffand  was  really  in  her  way 
attached  to  him,  she  never  hesitated  between  her 
friend  and  her  joke.  But  the  original  source  of 
bitterness  lay  deeper  than  any  such  surface  disturb- 
ances, and  proceeded  from  a  cause  more  honourable 
to  the  philosopher.  The  man  who  can  see  the  woman 
whom  he  loves  unhappy  and  not  forget  both  reason 
and  friendship  in  espousing  her  cause  against  the 
person  to  whom  he  attributes  her  unhappiness  is 
scarcely  worth  calling  a  man.  And  it  was  an  influ- 
ence precisely  of  this  kind  which  severed  d'Alembert 
from  Madame  du  Deffand. 

The  relations  between  Julie  de  Lespinasse  and  her 
patroness  had  for  some  years  continued  to  be  entirely 
creditable  to  both.  The  girl  had  certainly  some  hard- 
ships to  endure,  but  the  congenial  and  appreciative 
atmosphere  in  which  she  found  herself  made  them 
at  first  seem  light  in  comparison  with  the  miserable 
experiences  at  Champrond.  "  I  hate  myself,"  she 
wrote  in  after  life,  "for  not  being  able  to  put  up 
with  mediocrity.  I  am  very  hard  to  please !  But  is 
it  my  fault?  Just  consider  what  my  education  has 
been  !  Madame  du  Deffand  (for  whatever  else  she 
wants  she  has  brains  enough),  the  president  Hen- 
ault,  the  abbe  Bon,  the  archbishops l  of  Toulouse 
and  Aix,  M.  Turgot,  M.  d'Alembert,  the  abbe  de 
Boismont,  M.  de  Mora  ;  these  are  the  people  who 
taught  me  to  speak  and  think,  and  were  good 
enough  to  consider  me  worth  the  trouble."  On  her 
side,  she  spared  no  trouble  to  please  these  people  who 
received  her  so  kindly,  and  above  all  the  benefactress 

i  Lome'nie  de  Brienne  and  Boisgelin  de  Cice. 


THE   ROOT   OF   BITTERNESS  165 

who  had  brought  her  into  their  midst.  We  have  seen 
how  she  won  approbation  from  the  most  fastidious 
of  Madame  du  Deffand's  friends.  She  was  no  less 
successful  in  conciliating  the  servants  of  the  house, 
an  achievement  involving  greater  difficulties.  Her 
friendly  relations  with  the  excellent  Devreux  have 
already  been  noticed.  They  dated  from  Madame 
du  Deffand's  visit  to  Champrond  in  1752,  and  were 
much  approved  by  her,  though  she  did  not  fail  to  rally 
her  young  prote"ge"e  on  being  rather  too  polite  to  the 
lady's  maid  in  bestowing  on  her  the  title  of  "  Made- 
moiselle." Four  or  five  years  after  Julie's  installation 
at  St  Joseph,  it  is  to  her  that  Mademoiselle  Devreux 
turns  for  help  in  a  moment  of  great  distress.  A 
relation  of  hers  has  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his 
master,  a  powerful  farmer-general,  and  has  been 
subjected  in  consequence  to  a  rigorous  and  illegal 
imprisonment.  Two  of  his  friends  have  in  their 
possession  certain  documents  exculpating  the  prisoner 
from  all  blame,  and  these  it  is  their  intention  to  lay 
before  the  unjust  farmer-general ;  but  in  order  to 
obtain  a  hearing  it  is  necessary,  or  at  least  desirable, 
that  they  should  be  countenanced  by  a  person  of 
superior  rank.  In  much  perplexity  of  mind  Devreux 
appeals  to  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse.  The  time  is 
then  between  eight  and  nine  on  a  February  morning. 
Julie  (poor  girl)  is  in  bed,  but  she  instantly  rises  and 
accompanies  the  two  men  in  Madame  du  Deffand's 
carriage,  lent  for  the  occasion.  The  examination  of 
the  papers  proves  a  lengthy  affair,  and,  feeling  her 
presence  to  be  a  useful  check  on  the  proceedings,  she 
remains  in  attendance  till  six  that  evening.  For  an 
unmarried  woman  of  twenty-five  thus,  in  behalf  of 
a  social  inferior,  voluntarily  to  subject  herself  to 


1 66  A   STAR   OF  THE    SALONS 

fatigue,  publicity,  and  possible  insolence,  was  a  rare 
thing  in  that  day  and  country,  and  we  herein  recog- 
nise the  germ  of  those  qualities  which  were  afterwards 
matured  by  the  influence  of  Turgot. 

Julie  showed  equal  tact  and  good  feeling  in  dealing 
with  Madame  du  Deffand's  family  as  with  her  servants. 
Strongly  as  Gaspard  de  Vichy  had  resented  his  sister's 
protection  of  his  daughter,  he  had  far  too  keen  an  eye 
for  future  contingencies  to  make  a  lasting  quarrel  of  it, 
and,  the  mischief  being  once  accomplished  past  recall, 
he  magnanimously  determined  to  forgive  and  forget. 
Accordingly,  in  the  spring  of  1755,  or  less  than  a  year 
after  Julie  had  come  to  live  with  Madame  du  Deffand, 
we  find  Gaspard's  eldest  son,  Abel,  in  Paris,  and  on  the 
best  possible  terms  with  his  aunt  and  her  companion. 
The  boy,  who,  though  under  fifteen,  had  been  already 
for  some  time  in  the  army,  had  come,  on  the  way  to 
Champrond,  to  spend  a  part  of  his  leave  in  the  capital, 
where  he  had  apparently  a  very  pleasant  holiday,  and 
was,  in  fact,  quite  worn  out  with  party  and  theatre 
going.  He  was  delighted  to  meet  once  more  with  his 
beloved  teacher  and  playfellow,  whose  real  relation- 
ship with  himself  he  did  not  learn  for  several  years 
after,  when  it  was  revealed  to  him  by  his  mother. 
His  father,  for  reasons  easily  conjectured,  was  most 
anxious  that  he  should  make  a  good  impression  upon 
Madame  du  Deffand,  and  was  perpetually  writing  him 
instructions  to  this  end — instructions  which,  on  a  boy 
of  his  frank  and  honest  nature,  had  probably  an  effect 
the  reverse  of  that  intended.  Whether  for  this  reason, 
or  from  mere  youthful  gaucherie,  he  seems  more  than 
once  to  have  gone  near  to  offending  his  formidable 
aunt,  but  he  had  a  powerful  advocate  in  Julie,  who 
threw  all  her  influence  into  the  scale  in  his  favour. 


THE   ROOT   OF   BITTERNESS  167 

All  through  her  life  she  had  a  deep  and  sisterly  attach- 
ment for  Abel.  Nothing  can  be  more  charming  than 
the  tone  of  affectionate  banter  in  which  she  writes  to 
him  about  this  time. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear,  for  Monsieur  seems  to  me  too 
cold.  I  know,  of  course,  that  you  are  quite  grown  up 
now,  and  a  very  important  person,  but  remember  that 
I  have  known  you  since  you  were  '  no  higher  than 
that.'  You  called  me  your  dear  love  then,  and  I  still 
deserve  the  name,  so  please  don't  let  us  be  ceremoni- 
ous with  one  another.  I  don't  want  you  to  call  me 
Mademoiselle  in  your  letters.  Before  people  we  must 
conform  to  custom,  but  in  private  I  had  rather  not  be 
kept  at  a  distance." 

With  far  more  tact  than  Gaspard,  she  bases  her 
exhortations  to  the  boy  concerning  the  duty  of 
making  himself  agreeable  to  his  aunt  entirely  on 
the  higher  ground  of  Madame  du  Deffand's  funda- 
mental affection  for  him,  as  demonstrated  by  her 
kindness  in  many  instances.  It  is  deeply  touching 
also  to  observe  how  she  craves  for  reconciliation  with 
the  relatives  who  had  treated  her  so  unkindly. 

"  I  am  overjoyed  to  hear  from  you  that  your  mother 
is  still  so  kind  as  to  have  a  friendly  remembrance  of 
me.  Please  assure  her  of  my  gratitude.  I  hope  that 
M.  de  Vichy's  cold  will  have  no  serious  results.  It 
has  been  the  universal  malady  here,  and  we  have 
not  had  the  right  sort  of  weather  for  getting  rid  of  it." 

Perhaps  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  intention  in 
the  succeeding  passage. 

"  It  is  not  the  sort  for  going  to  the  country  either, 
but,  all  the  same,  we  are  going  on  Saturday  to 


1 68  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

Montmorenci  to  stay  till  Easter.  It  is  a  big  business 
for  your  aunt  to  make  a  move  like  that,  but  she  has 
been  so  pressed  that  she  could  not  refuse.  Besides 
she  will  be  just  as  comfortable  there  as  at  home. 
M.  and  Madame  la  Marechale  de  Luxembourg 
are  extremely  attentive,  and  we  shall  have  all  the 
people  there  whom  we  see  most  of  here,  M.  le 
President,  Mesdames  de  Mirepoix  and  de  Boufflers, 
M.  de  Pont-de-Veyle,"  etc. 

The  de  Vichys  knew  enough  of  fashionable  Paris 
to  be  aware  that  an  invitation  to  Montmorenci  was 
esteemed  a  high  honour,  and  she  was  naturally  not 
unwilling  to  let  them  know  that  it  had  been  conferred 
upon  her.  Five  years  later  we  have  another  letter  to 
Abel  dated  curiously  enough  from  Montmorenci,  and 
equally  characteristic  of  an  affectionate  elder  sister. 
The  young  man  is  again  at  home,  this  time  on  sick 
leave,  and  her  tone  is  at  once  sympathetic  and  en- 
couraging. In  addition  to  his  other  troubles,  he  has 
had  a  quarrel  with  Madame  du  Deffand,  but  Julie  has 
succeeded  in  setting  things  right,  and  in  the  spirit  of  a 
true  peacemaker  disclaims  all  credit  for  the  achieve- 
ment. 

"  I  have  nothing  whatever  to  boast  of  in  regard 
to  your  reconciliation  with  Madame  du  Deffand.  It 
was  a  case  of  pushing  an  open  door.  She  was  very 
kindly  disposed  towards  you  all  the  time,  and  not  at 
all  angry  with  you.  She  takes  great  interest  in  all 
your  concerns,  and  speaks  her  mind  frankly  to  you, 
because  she  thinks  you  worth  the  trouble.  So,  my 
dear,  don't  be  remorseful  or  uneasy,  you  are  not  only 
forgiven,  but  beloved." 


THE   ROOT   OF   BITTERNESS  169 

In  this  letter  she  sends  affectionate  remembrances 
to  both  Abel's  parents,  from  which  fact  we  infer  that 
she  is  now  on  friendly  terms  with  Gaspard,  as  well  as 
with  his  wife.  There  are  also  kind  messages  to  the 
servants  at  Champrond,  and  a  good-natured  mention 
of  Abel's  younger  brother,1  who  had  now,  in  his  turn, 
begun  soldiering,  and  was  not  precisely  winning  golden 
opinions  in  his  new  calling.  Her  obvious  desire  to 
make  the  best  of  this  far  from  lovable  scapegrace,  as 
of  all  the  de  Vichy  family,  shows  how  far  she  was  re- 
moved from  any  wish  to  supplant  them  in  the  favour  of 
Madame  du  Deffand.  Her  anxiety  to  prevent  family 
dissensions  did  not  stop  here.  When  Abel,  with 
boyish  inconsequence,  writes,  on  his  arrival  at  home, 
to  her  instead  of  to  his  uncle,  the  Abbe"  de  Cham- 
prond, who  had  been  apparently  his  host  at  Paris,  she 
carefully  conceals  this  preference  from  the  good  priest, 
while  gently  rebuking  the  offender.  "You  ought  to 
write  to  him,  he  will  be  gratified  by  the  attention,  and  he 
deserves  it."  No  one  certainly  was  ever  more  exempt 
than  she  from  the  detestable  spirit  of  mischief-making. 

To  Madame  du  Deffand,  on  her  side,  we  must  also 
allow  the  honour  which  is  her  due.  We  have  seen 
that  she  displayed  no  resentment,  but  rather  satisfac- 
tion, at  the  favour  won  by  Julie  from  some  of  her 
oldest  friends,  both  male  and  female.  When  a 
younger  admirer  appeared  on  the  scene  her  behaviour 
appears  to  have  been  on  the  whole  not  unworthy 
of  a  responsible  and  conscientious  guardian ;  though 
it  is  certainly  from  this  incident,  which  took  place 
when  they  had  lived  together  for  three  or  four  years, 
that  we  must  date  the  first  perceptible  straining  of 
the  relation  between  the  aunt  and  niece.  The  hero 

1  The  sister  seems  to  have  died  some  years  earlier. 


170 


of  this  story  was  descended  from  a  noble  and  ancient 
Irish  family,  which  still  exists  at  the  present  day,  its 
head,  Viscount  Taaffe,  being  settled  in  Austria.  Mr 
Taaffe  (his  Christian  name  is  unknown,  and  it  is  not 
clear  whether  he  was  entitled  to  the  prefix  of  Honour- 
able) was  in  the  habit  of  paying  long  visits  to  Paris, 
where  he  had  numerous  influential  connections,  at 
Court  and  elsewhere.  Like  many  other  distinguished 
foreigners,  he  obtained  an  introduction  to  Madame  du 
Deffand,  and  became,  for  a  time,  a  regular  attendant 
at  her  salon.  His  appearance  marks  a  momentous 
epoch  in  the  experience  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse. 
Setting  aside  d'Alembert,  of  whose  silent  devotion 
she  was  perhaps  scarcely  conscious,  her  admirers 
hitherto  had  been  all  elderly  men,  such  as  Henault, 
the  Chevalier  d'Aydie,  and  the  Marquis  d'Usse",  and 
it  had  never  occurred  to  her  to  take  any  of  them 
seriously.  The  feeling  with  which  she  inspired  the 
newcomer  was  of  a  warmer  kind,  and  was  by  her  fully 
reciprocated,  and  Madame  du  Deffand  suddenly  awoke 
to  the  fact  that  a  flourishing  romance  was  in  progress 
beneath  her  roof. 

She  strongly  objected — why,  in  the  absence  of 
fuller  information,  we  are  unable  to  say.  As  M.  de 
Se*gur  implies,  it  is  not  impossible  that  Taaffe  had 
already  a  wife  in  Ireland,  though  at  the  same  time  it 
is  scarcely  likely,  in  the  light  of  Julie's  subsequent 
behaviour  towards  Guibert,  that  she  would  knowingly 
have  encouraged  the  attentions  of  a  married  man. 
But,  even  setting  aside  this  unpleasant  possibility,  one 
must  take  into  account  that  the  gallant  Irishman's 
fortune  probably  consisted  mainly  of  debts,  and 
further,  that  the  men  of  his  nation,  though  far  more 
attentive  to  unmarried  women  than  Frenchmen,  are 


THE  ROOT  OF  BITTERNESS  171 

scarcely  more  in  the  habit  of  marrying  for  love  than 
they  are.  Considering  Julie's  almost  penniless  condi- 
tion, it  was  altogether  unlikely  that  the  affair  could 
result  in  matrimony,  and  Madame  du  Deffand,  with 
her  hard-won  experience  of  the  seamy  side  of  life,  is 
not  to  be  blamed  for  desiring,  in  her  niece's  interest, 
to  put  an  end  to  it. 

Of  the  two  persons  mainly  concerned,  the  gentleman 
received  her  remonstrances  with  a  docility  which 
proves  that  he  was  in  his  heart  convinced  of  their 
reasonableness.  The  Misses  Berry,  Horace  Walpole's 
friends,  had  seen  letters  written  by  Taaffe  to  Madame 
du  Deffand  testifying  alike  to  his  affection  for  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse,  and  his  gratitude  for  Madame 
du  Deffand's  prudence  and  tenderness  in  regard  to 
her,  and  proving,  in  their  opinion,  that  her  behaviour 
to  her  protege  had  been,  in  this  instance,  at  least, 
entirely  maternal.  But  such  was  not  the  view  taken 
by  Julie  de  Lespinasse  herself.  Instead  of  promising 
compliance  with  the  grave  admonitions  of  her  patroness, 
she  broke  out  into  protest  with  a  vehemence  which 
dismayed  the  elder  woman,  by  whom  the  potentialities 
of  passion  hidden  beneath  a  surface  of  consummate 
tact  and  self-control  had  been  perhaps  hitherto  un- 
suspected. Finding  argument  and  reason  unavailing, 
Madame  du  T)effaricT~had  lecourse  tu  authority,  and 
summarily  forbade  the  gifl  to  see  or  speak  to  Taaffe 
again,  enjoining  Eer  to  remain  henceforth  in  her  room 
whenever  this  gentleman  came  to  call  at  St  Joseph. 
In  after  years  Madame  duTDeffand  told  a  strange 
story  of  the  effects  which  followed  upon  this  rigorous 
restriction.  According  to  her,  Julie,  driven  to  despair 
by  the  thought  ufneveT  again  meetm^Her  lover  (who 
probabT£_left  Pa.rTg  ahrmt  thi«a  Hmp) /LQgJ£ja_jggf>  of 


1 72  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

opium,  which  nearly  proved  fatal,  and  had  "a  "lasting 
influence  upon  her  health. 

We  are  not  obliged  to  accept  without  reservation 
this  statement,  made  after  the  final  rupture  between 
the  two  women.  There  is  no  doubt  that  Julie  de 
Lespinasse  did,  at  a  later  and  much  graver  crisis  of 
her  existence,  make  an  attempt  at  suicide,  which  was 
only  frustrated  by  the  intervention  of  Guibert.  There 
is  therefore  nothing  impossible  in  the  narrative  of 
Madame  du  Deffand,  but  we  must  also  remember  that 
the  girl  had  early  contracted  the  pernicious  habit  of 
having  resource  to  opium  as  a  remedy  for  neuralgia 
and  sleeplessness,  and  M.  de  Se"gur  may  be  right 
in  his  conjecture  that  in  her  extreme  agitation  she 
accidentally  took  an  overdose  of  the  narcotic.  In 
either  case,  Madame  du  Deffand  seems  to  have  shown 
much  alarm,  and  a  degree  of  compunction  which 
proves  that  she  felt  herself  guilty  of  some  excessive 
harshness  in  the  matter.  According  to  La  Harpe,  she 
melted  into  tears  at  the  girl's  bedside,  and  though  it 
may  be  true  that  Julie,  "with  the  Roman,"  only  said  : 
"Too  late,  madame,"  a  reconciliation  did  evidently 
ensue.  Taaffe  had,  by  this  time,  doubtless  returned 
to  Ireland,  and,  the  grand  stumbling-block  being  thus 
removed,  all,  to  outward  appearance,  went  smoothly 
for  some  time  longer  between  the  aunt  and  niece. 
But  their  first  love  for  one  another  was  never  really 
restored,  and  with  every  year  the  estrangement  grew, 
till  the  last  remnant  of  affection  had  fallen  away  from 
both,  and  left  them  declared  and  irreconcilable 
enemies. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

"  LIKE  WATER  SPRINKLED  ON  THE  PLAIN  " 

FROM  Julie's  letter  to  Abel  de  Vichy,  above  cited, 
we  have  seen  that,  so  late  as  1760,  she  had 
still  sufficient  influence  with  Madame  du  Deffand  to 
act  successfully  as  mediatrix  between  the  aunt  and 
nephew.  Even  in  the  following  year,  some  letters 
written  to  Madame  du  Deffand  herself,  while  that  lady 
was  absent  at  Montmorenci — the  companion  being 
for  the  moment  too  unwell  to  accompany  her — show 
that,  so  far  as  outward  seeming  went,  they  continued 
to  be  on  affectionate  terms.  In  fact,  it  must  be  owned 
that  the  tone  of  exaggerated  devotion  adopted  by 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  leaves  a  slightly  un- 
pleasant impression  on  the  mind.  Intense  and 
ardent  as  she  undoubtedly  was,  she  could  scarcely 
have  meant  what  she  said  when  comparing  the  pain 
of  separation  from  her  patroness  to  the  agony  of 
death  (^ — and  I  fear  the  expression  only  proves  that 
she  had  learnt  accurately  to  estimate  the  real  value  of 
Madame  du  Deffand's  much-vaunted  love  for  sincerity 
and  plain  speaking.  In  fact,  the  reflection  which  na- 
turally suggests  itself  is  that  she  must  have  decidedly 
enjoyed  this  interval  of  freedom.  In  these  days 
of  perpetual  holidays  for  all  classes  of  society,  it  is 
difficult  to  realise  how  rare  was  any  respite  in  such 
lives  as  hers,  for  Madame  du  Deffand  scarcely  ever 
left  home  except  to  visit  Montmorenci,  whither,  as 
173 


i74  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

we  have  seen,  Julie  generally  attended  her.  Accord- 
ingly, we  find  that,  in  spite  of  her  indisposition,  she 
seems  to  be  having  what  in  modern  phrase  is  styled 
a  good  time.  Her  first  letter  is  dated  Friday  evening, 
and  that  day  she  has  spent  resting  in  her  room,  and 
means,  if  not  better  to-morrow,  to  remain  in  bed.  But 
when  the  morrow  comes  she  goes  out  to  dinner  (or, 
as  we  should  say,  to  luncheon),  then  takes  a  turn  in 
the  Tuileries  gardens  with  another  lady,  and  in  the 
evening  makes  one  of  a  supper-party  given  by  the 
Comtesse  de  Boufflers,  where,  as  she  says,  she  did  not 
eat  much,  but  met  several  agreeable  people  and  had 
a  very  pleasant  evening.  On  the  Monday,  apparently, 
she  follows  Madame  du  Deffand  to  Montmorenci. 

Plainly  the  companion  had  now  a  recognised 
position  of  her  own,  and  that  among  the  very  pick  of 
Parisian  society.  Not  only  so,  but  she  enjoyed  an 
amount  of  liberty  which  was  unusual  in  that  age  and 
country  for  an  unmarried  woman  still  under  thirty, 
and  decisively  proves  that,  despite  the  Taaffe  episode, 
Madame  du  Deffand  knew  she  could  be  trusted  not 
to  impair  her  employer's  laboriously  acquired  respect- 
ability by  anything  approaching  to  a  scandal  in  the 
household.  When  the  Marquise  had  first  taken  Julie 
under  her  protection  she  had  intended,  whenever  she 
herself  should  be  absent  from  Paris,  to  place  the  girl 
as  a  pensionnaire  in  the  interior  of  the  convent,  where 
such  frivolities  as  going  out  to  supper  would  have 
been  impossible,  but  we  see  that  she  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  adhere  to  this  precaution. 

Despite  the  almost  adulatory  tone  of  these  letters, 
we  can  discern  in  them  some  traces  of  the  growing 
coldness  not  with  Julie  herself  but  with  d'Alembert. 
Apparently  she  had  been  entrusted  with  an  invitation 


LIKE  WATER  SPRINKLED  ON  THE  PLAIN     175 

to  him  to  accompany  her  on  the  Monday  to  Mont- 
morenci,  and  Madame  du  Deffand  seems  to  have 
been  especially  anxious  that  he  should  accept  it. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  madame,  I  will  not  forget  what 
you  told  me  about  Monday,"  writes  Julie,  "and  I  will 
do  my  best  to  bring  M.  d'Alembert  along  with 
me.  I  expect  to  see  him  this  evening  at  Madame  de 
Boufflers'." 

On  returning  from  the  party  aforesaid  that  night, 
or  rather  at  one  on  the  following  morning,  she  has  to 
tell  a  tale  of  failure.  M.  d'Alembert  cannot  come, 
because  he  is  about  to  be  carried  off  by  main  force  on 
a  visit  to  another  aristocratic  mansion  ! 

"He  has  made  me  promise  to  tell  you  that  he  is 
very  sorry,  for  he  had  been  looking  forward  to 
Montmorenci,  and  would  have  liked  to  pay  his 
respects  to  M.  le  Mare"chal  and  Madame,  and  he 
feels  it  a  privation  to  be  so  long  without  seeing 
you." 

One  would  be  interested  to  know  the  precise  terms 
in  which  d'Alembert  expressed  the  refusal  thus  ren- 
dered by  his  tactful  friend.  Did  he  say  that  when  he 
wanted  an  invitation  to  Montmorenci  he  could  get 
one  without  Madame  du  Deffand's  patronage,  and 
much  preferred  to  go  there  when  she  was  absent  ? 
Quite  possibly,  for  two  years  later  we  find  that 
his  animosity  has  reached  a  stage  at  which  he  will 
scarcely  give  himself  the  trouble  of  concealing  it.  He 
is  now  (1763)  in  Prussia,  as  the  guest  of  Frederic  the 
Great,  and  save  for  the  dietetic  difficulties  already 
referred  to,  seems  to  be  enjoying  himself  very  much. 
His  letters  read  like  one  continued  eulogium  on  the 


176  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

great  King  and  all  his  works,  including  even  the  royal 
performance  on  the  flute.  His  enthusiasm  may  be 
partly  accounted  for  by  the  consideration  that  Prussian 
postal  arrangements  were,  rightly  or  wrongly,  supposed 
to  include  a  governmental  inspection  of  outgoing  letters 
from  distinguished  foreign  residents,  yet  in  the  main 
it  was  probably  genuine.  Frederic,  as  we  learn  from 
Voltaire's  experience,  could  make  himself  very  agree- 
able for  a  short  time,  and  his  heart  was  still  set  upon 
winning  the  great  scientist  to  take  up  his  abode  at 
Berlin.  D'Alembert,  however,  could  not  be  persuaded 
to  forsake  his  native  country  for  "a  thousand  reasons, 
one  of  which  you  will  never  be  clever  enough  to 
guess."  I  need  scarcely  say  that  the  you  in  question 
is  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  and  the  phrase  just  quoted 
seems  to  convey  the  nearest  approach  which  his 
philosophic  doubt  had  in  a  nine  years'  acquaintance 
permitted  him  to  make  to  a  declaration  of  love.  His 
stay  in  Prussia  lasted  three  months,  from  June  to 
September,  and  during  those  three  months  Julie 
received  from  him  twenty-three  letters,  sometimes  of 
considerable  length,  giving  full  details  of  all  the 
writer's  experiences,  including  his  own  jokes,  and  the 
King's  appreciative  reception  of  them.  To  Madame 
du  Deffand,  the  correspondent  whom,  in  former  days, 
he  had  delighted  to  honour,  d'Alembert  during  the 
same  period  only  wrote  once,  and  that  time  in  a  tone 
of  cold  and  stiff  politeness.  The  King,  he  observes, 
has  asked  for  her  and  spoken  admiringly  of  her  talent 
for  epigram.  He  confides  to  Julie  that  what  Frederic 
really  said  was  :  "Is  Madame  du  Deffand  still  alive  ?  " 
"You  may  be  sure,"  adds  d'Alembert,  with  a  sneer, 
"  that  I  will  let  her  know  of  this  agreeable  remark.  I 
am  going  to  write  to  her  by  this  post,  if  I  can." 


LIKE  WATER  SPRINKLED  ON  THE  PLAIN     177 

When  at  last  he  finds  time  some  days  later  to  write 
the  single  letter  which  we  have  mentioned,  he  begs 
that  she  will  not  give  herself  the  trouble  of  answering 
in  person.  Perhaps  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  will 
be  so  kind  as  to  let  him  know  (once  in  a  way)  how 
all  is  going  on  at  St  Joseph.  Plainly  the  Marquise 
knew  nothing  of  the  correspondence  between  her 
companion  and  her  former  protege.  Certainly,  she 
would  have  been  offended  beyond  recall  had  she 
known  that  d'Alembert,  while  thus  on  the  score  of 
his  many  occupations  neglecting  herself,  had  sufficient 
leisure  to  write  by  every  post  to  another.  As  it  was, 
she  disregarded  his  injunctions,  and  replied  in  her  own 
difficult  writing,  thanking  him  warmly  for  his  "  charm- 
ing letter,"  and  alluding  m  really  affecting  terms  to 
"the  golden  age"  of  their  friendship  "twenty  years 
ago."  Evidently,  the  blind  woman  was  fully  conscious 
that  this  friend  of  twenty  years  standing  no  longer 
felt  towards  her  as  in  the  past.  Evidently,  also,  she 
regretted  the  estrangement,  and  would  fain  have  re- 
moved it.  But  d'Alembert  returned  no  answer  to  this 
letter.  Her  moving  appeal,  "  Let  us  be  friends  again, 
as  we  once  were,"  fell  on  deaf  ears,  and  we  may  well 
believe  that  this  was  the  last  attempt  at  a  reconcilia- 
tion which  Madame  du  Deffand's  pride  would  permit 
her  to  make. 

Half-a-year  after  d'Alembert's  return  from  Prussia 
ensued  the  final  irrevocable  rupture,  caused,  like  the 
smouldering  hostility  which  preceded  it,  by  indignation 
at  the  treatment  awarded  to  Julie  de  Lespinasse. 
We  should  certainly  be  mistaken,  however,  if  we  were 
to  trace  the  first  beginning  of  this  feeling  to  the  source 
from  which,  with  the  girl  herself,  it  probably  originated 
—the  abortive  "affaire  Taaffe."  It  is  very  unlikely 


178  A    STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

that  d'Alembert  who  had  more  than  the  average 
obtuseness  of  his  sex  in  such  matters,  ever  even  noticed 
the  tenderness  between  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse 
and  the  Irishman,  and  had  he  understood  the  state  of 
affairs  he  would  probably  for  once  have  thought  that 
Madame  du  Deffand  was  entirely  in  the  right.  What 
he  could  not  fail  to  see  was  that,  as  the  years  went  by, 
Julie,  however  she  might  strive  to  save  the  appear- 
ances, and  perhaps  the  realities,  of  the  old  tenderness, 
was  no  longer  happy  with  her  employer.  That  lady, 
though  she  could  not  precisely  be  described  as 
capricious,  was  more  than  ordinarily  exacting  in  the 
demands  she  made  on  others,  and  every  instance  of 
failure  to  comply  with  those  demands  tended  to  pro- 
duce on  her  part  a  rankling  and  accumulated  resent- 
ment against  the  offender.  "  God  does  not  require 
so  much  as  she,"  wrote  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  in  the 
bitterness  of  her  soul.  "  With  her  a  single  venial  sin 
cancels  in  one  moment  the  services  of  many  years." 
The  girl,  as  we  have  seen,  erred,  if  anything,  on  the 
side  of  over-suppleness,  but  she  was  no  more  a  lamb 
nor  a  dove  than  she  was  a  fool,  and  must  often  have 
failed  to  satisfy  the  exactions  of  her  patroness,  who 
mentally  set  down  each  item  of  wrongdoing  to  swejl 
the  black  account  opened  perhaps  at  the  date  of  their 
first  quarrel  over  the  captivating  Mr  Taaffe. 

Things  were  made  much  worse  than  they  would 
otherwise  have  been  by  the  obvious  partisanship  of 
d'Alembert.  Though  he  had  never  been  more  than 

O 

a  friend,  Madame  du  Deffand  was  exceedingly  jealous 
of  his  preference,  and  for  her  niece  to  have  supplanted 
her  in  that  quarter  was  an  unpardonable  sin.  It  was 
gall  and  wormwood  to  her  to  witness  the  affectionately 
confidential  terms  on  which  the  two  now  stood  to  each 


LIKE  WATER  SPRINKLED  ON  THE  PLAIN    179 

other,  and  she  made  her  resentment  so  plainly  felt 
that  they  were  driven,  in  self-defence,  to  devise  some 
means  of  meeting  without  her  supervision.  It  is  thus 
that  we  must  account  for,  and  if  possible  excuse,  the 
curiously  childish  and  not  over-honourable  proceeding 
which  led  to  the  final  separation  between  Julie  and 
her  aunt. 

D'Alembert  found  sympathy  and  support  in  two  or 
three  other  habitues  of  the  salon,  who,  while  regarding 
Julie  with  feelings  less  warm  than  his,  were  on  terms 
of  intimacy  with  her,  and,  like  him,  suffered  from  the 
difficulty  of  enjoying  unrestrictedly  the  charm  of  her 
conversation,  for  it  is  manifest  that  the  pleasure  once 
displayed  by  Madame  du  Deffand  at  every  mark  of 
appreciation  bestowed  on  her  niece  had  by  degrees 
given  place  to  a  watchful  and  irritable  jealousy  of  one 
who  now  appeared  to  her  in  the  light  of  a  successful 
rival.  Madame  du  Deffand  was,  as  we  know,  never 
visible  till  six  p.m.  During  the  winter  which  fol- 
lowed d'Alembert's  return  from  Prussia,  he  and  the 
sympathisers  above  referred  to — namely,  Marmontel, 
Turgot,  and  the  Chevalier  de  Chastellux  (the  last 
a  gentlemanly  dabbler  in  literature)  formed  the  habit 
of  arriving  at  St  Joseph  an  hour  before  the  daily 
reception  began,  and  spending  the  intervening  time 
in  a  call  upon  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse. 

No  suspicion  of  impropriety  attached  to  these  re- 
unions, which  seem  never  to  have  been  of  a  tete-a- 
t£te  description.  The  tiny  bedroom  in  which  they  were 
held  would  certainly  not  at  first  sight  strike  an  English 
reader  as  exactly  the  place  where  a  lady  should  receive 
her  friends  of  the  opposite  sex.  But  this  objection 
would  scarcely  occur  to  French  people  at  the  present 
day,  and  would  have  been  quite  incomprehensible  to 


i8o  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

them  then.  The  difference,  in  this  respect,  of  national 
custom  is  noted  by  Young,  who  observes,  with  some 
exaggeration:  "We  are  so  unaccustomed  to  live  in 
our  bed-chambers  that  it  is  at  first  awkward  to  find 
in  France  that  people  live  nowhere  else."  The  real 
wrongdoing  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  existence  of  this 
miniature  salon  was  kept  a  secret  from  Madame  du 
Deffand,  in  the  full  understanding  that  she  would 
never,  had  she  known,  have  permitted  it.  It  is,  in- 
deed, difficult  to  understand  how  such  a  trick  could 
have  been  successfully  played  upon  a  woman  whose 
perceptions,  naturally  sharp,  had  derived  additional 
keenness  from  her  loss  of  sight ;  but  late-rising  on  the 
part  of  the  mistress  of  a  household  is  proverbially  the 
opportunity  of  her  subordinates,  and  Julie's  bedroom, 
which  looked  on  the  courtyard,  was  on  the  floor  above 
that  of  her  patroness,  and  doubtless  out  of  earshot. 

But  it  was  inevitable  that  the  day  of  reckoning, 
however  deferred,  should  come  at  last,  and  one  even- 
ing, about  the  middle  of  April,  1 764,  it  came  in  good 
earnest.  It  is  said  that  the  evil  secret  was  revealed 
to  Madame  du  Deffand  by  a  servant — through  mere 
blundering,  we  must  believe,  for,  if  the  whole  household 
had  not  been  more  or  less  on  the  side  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse,  it  is  manifest  that  the  deception  could 
not  have  lasted  a  single  day.  Perhaps,  as  Marmontel 
implies,  the  blind  woman's  suspicions  were  aroused  by 
observing  that  not  only  her  companion  but  the  gentle- 
men above  enumerated,  betrayed  into  forgetfulness 
by  the  charm  of  those  familiar  reunions,  had  fallen 
into  a  habit  of  joining  the  circle  downstairs  at  a  later 
and  later  hour.  In  any  case  it  is  certain  that  on  the 
April  evening  in  question  she  rose  from  her  bed  an 
hour  earlier  than  was  her  wont,  mounted  the  unac- 


customed  stairs,  and  stood,  terrible  in  her  wrath,  on 
the  threshold  of  the  room  which  still  echoed  with  lively 
words  and  pleasant  laughter. 

The  scene  which  followed  has  been  reconstructed 
in  the  well-known  novel  "  Lady  Rose's  Daughter," 
with  much  alteration,  indeed,  in  the  circumstances, 
but  still  with  a  vigour  and  picturesqueness  of  detail 
which  the  mere  chronicler  of  cold  facts  cannot  hope  to 
emulate.  The  gentlemen  doubtless  felt  the  necessity 
of  withdrawing  at  once  from  the  fray.  Even  d'Alem- 
bert  would  realise  that  the  lady  of  his  heart  must,  on 
this  occasion,  be  left  to  fight  her  own  battle  unaided 
—as  indeed  she  was  entirely  competent  to  do,  Only 
stray  fragments  of  the  ensuing  dialogue  between  the 
two  women  have  come  down  to  us,  but  they  are 
abundantly  sufficient  to  show  that  Julie  de  Lespinasse 
had  not  the  worst  of  the  encounter. 

4  4  So,  mademoiselle,  you  would  rob  me  of  my  friends ! " 
cried  Madame  du  Deffand,  her  nasal  voice  rising  al- 
most to  a  scream.  44  It  is  by  such  treason  that  you 
show  your  gratitude !  You  shall  remain  no  longer 
under  my  roof.  I  have  had  enough  of  nursing  a  viper 
in  my  bosom  !  " 

With  equal  passion  the  younger  woman,  her  habi- 
tual self-control  thrown  all  to  the  winds,  fiercely  re- 
torted. 

"Gratitude!  I  have  long  known  that  you  detested 
me.  You  never  miss  an  opportunity  of  wounding  and 
mortifying  me.  I  would  not  stay  here  longer  if  you 
asked  me.  I  have  friends  of  my  own,  real  friends, 
who  will  treat  me  very  differently  from  you ! " 

And  so  forthwith,  that  very  night  perhaps,  the  aunt 
and  niece  parted  to  meet  no  more.  We  do  not  know 
where  Julie  first  took  refuge  on  leaving  St  Joseph. 


1 82  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

For  a  woman  in  her  position  there  were  only  two  alter- 
natives consistent  with  decorum  :  a  convent  or  the  house 
of  a  friend.  Most  likely  she  chose  the  last,  for  many 
houses  would  be  open  to  her  at  such  a  crisis.  Madame 
de  Luxembourg,  or  Madame  de  Boufflers,  or  the 
Duchesse  de  Chatillon,  afterwards  known  as  her  most 
devoted  friend,  may  quite  well  have  been  her  hostess 
during  the  days  immediately  following  the  rupture 
with  Madame  du  Deffand. 

It  seems,  however,  that  so  far  this  rupture  was  not 
irrevocable.  Madame  du  Deffand  had  not  apparently 
said  :  "  Go,  and  see  my  face  no  more,"  but :  "  Do  not 
come  into  my  presence  till  six  months  [or  some  such 
period]  have  expired."  Within  three  weeks  of  her 
departure,  Julie,  who,  as  her  conduct  towards  the  de 
Vichys  has  already  shown,  was  by  no  means  of  a  vin- 
dictive nature,  had  begun  to  feel  qualms  of  repentance, 
and,  though  far  from  regretting  the  life  at  St  Joseph, 
yearned  for  a  reconciliation  with  her  kinswoman  and 
former  benefactress.  Her  conscience  reproached  her 
with  her  own  share  in  the  quarrel.  (It  is  astonishing 
how  reproachful  conscience  can  be  on  such  occasions, 
when  we  are  no  longer  subjected  to  daily  association 
with  the  opposite  party  in  the  strife.)  And  it  certainly 
cannot  be  maintained  that  Julie  was  free  from  blame 
in  the  matter ;  yet  no  woman  who  knows  how  often 
deceitfulness  is,  by  the  tyranny  of  parents  and  other 
protectors,  absolutely  forced  upon  girls  in  what  is 
called  a  "sheltered"  position,  as  the  only  possible 
price  of  peace,  will  feel  inclined  to  throw  the  first 
stone. 

She  wrote  an  affectionate  letter  begging  that  she 
might  be  allowed  to  see  Madame  du  Deffand  before 
the  prescribed  term  had  expired.  But  that  lady 


LA   DUCHESSE   DE   CHATILLON 

FROM    A    PAINTING   BY   ROSALBA   CARRIERA  (?)   IN    THE    I.OUVKE 


had  not,  on  her  side,  found  reflection  conducive  to 
repentance.  On  the  contrary,  her  wrath  had  been 
increased  by  brooding  over  the  wrong  she  had  suffered. 
That  anyone  beside  herself  might  have  suffered  wrong 
was  not  a  consideration  which  at  any  time  entered 
into  her  theory  of  the  universe.  Something,  more- 
over, had  occurred  in  the  interval  which  tended  still 
further  to  embitter  her.  On  the  morrow  of  the  parting 
from  Julie  she  had  sent  for  d'Alembert,  and  made 
known  her  view  of  the  situation  in  some  such  words 
as  these:  "You  cannot  be  both  her  friend  and 
mine.  Choose  then  between  us."  And  d'Alembert 
had  in  effect  replied  :  "  My  choice  was  made  long 
ago,  madame.  I  have  the  honour  to  wish  you  a  good 
day."  It  is  incomprehensible  how  so  clever  a  woman 
should  in  the  circumstances  have  expected,  as  it  is 
plain  she  did,  any  other  reply,  and  mortification  at 
her  own  blunder  doubtless  contributed  to  the  rage 
induced  by  this  repulse.  Her  answer  to  Julie  was 
well  calculated  to  crush  out  every  lingering  emotion 
of  tenderness  or  regret,  and  to  make  a  reconciliation 
henceforth  impossible. 

"  I  cannot  consent  to  receive  you  so  soon,  made- 
moiselle ;  the  conversation  which  I  have  had  with  you, 
and  which  has  caused  our  separation,  is  still  too  fresh 
in  my  mind.  I  cannot  believe  that  it  is  from  any 
feeling  of  affection  you  wish  to  see  me.  It  is  im- 
possible to  love  anyone  by  whom  '  we  know  that  we 
are  detested,  abhorred,  etc.,'  'by  whom  we  are  per- 
petually humiliated,  mortified,  etc.'  These  are  your 
own  words,  and  the  ideas  which  have  been  long  sug- 
gested to  you  by  those  whom  you  call  'your  true 
friends.'  They  may  really  be  such,  and  I  wish  with 


1 84  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

all  my  heart  that  they  may  obtain  for  you  all  the 
advantages  which  you  expect  from  them,  happiness, 
fortune,  position,  etc.  What  use  could  you  make  of 
me  now,  and  of  what  service  could  I  be  to  you  ?  My 
presence  could  not  give  you  pleasure,  it  could  only 
serve  to  remind  you  of  the  early  days  of  our  acquain- 
tance, and  the  years  that  followed  them,  and  the  only 
thing  to  be  done  now  is  to  forget  all  that.  Yet  if, 
hereafter,  you  came  to  remember  those  days  with 
pleasure,  and  the  recollection  gave  rise  to  some 
remorse,  some  regret,  I  do  not  make  it  my  boast  to 
be  inexorable,  I  am  not  unfeeling,  I  can  distinguish 
truth  from  falsehood.  A  sincere  repentance  could 
move  me,  and  restore  the  liking  and  tenderness  which 
I  once  had  for  you.  But  meanwhile,  mademoiselle, 
let  us  remain  as  we  are,  and  content  yourself  with  my 
good  wishes  for  your  happiness." 

To  farewells  and  good  wishes  thus  expressed  only 
one  response  was  possible.  Henceforth  Madame  du 
Deffand  became,  on  the  testimony  of  d'Alembert,  the 
one  person  in  the  world  whom  Julie  de  Lespinasse 
might  perhaps  be  said  to  hate.  Julie  de  Lespinasse, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  by  no  means  the  only  person 
whom  Madame  du  Deffand  hated,  but  certainly  there 
was  no  one  whom  she  hated  so  much.  She  made  no 
secret  of  her  feelings  on  this  point,  and  not  only 
expressed  them l  in  words  of  almost  inconceivable 
coarseness  and  brutality,  but  carried  them  into 
practice  by  doing  all  in  her  power  (happily  it  was  very 
little)  to  injure  the  fortunes  of  her  former  friend. 

i  E.g. — Her  blasphemous  and  scarcely  translatable  remark  on  hear- 
ing of  Julie's  death,  "  If  she  is  in  Heaven,  the  Holy  Virgin  had  better 
look  out  for  herself.  She  is  quite  clever  enough  to  supplant  her  in  the 
affections  of  God  the  Father." 


LIKE  WATER  SPRINKLED  ON  THE  PLAIN    185 

More  dignified  and  self-respecting  was  the  conduct 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  who,  so  far  as  out- 
ward appearance  went,  gave  on  her  part  no  sign  of 
hostility,  and  in  public  never  mentioned  Madame 
du  Deffand,  save  in  terms  of  distant  respect.  Her 
sole  revenge,  a  revenge  enjoyed  by  herself  alone,  or 
at  most  by  one  or  two  especial  friends,  and  never 
made  known  to  its  unconscious  object,  was  to  com- 
mit to  writing,  in  the  form  of  one  of  the  fashionable 
"portraits,"  her  real  opinion  of  Madame  du  Deffand's 
character,  grounded  on  ten  years  of  intimate  experi- 
ence. This  remarkable  document,  which  has  only  of 
late  years  been  discovered,  is  too  long  to  be  quoted 
in  its  entirety,  but  a  few  extracts  will  serve  to  show 
— first,  how  well  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  could 
write,  and  secondly  how  the  iron  must  have  entered 
into  her  soul,  to  produce  such  concentrated  bitterness 
of  feeling. 

"Her  servants  are  the  only  persons  towards  whom 
Madame  du  Deffand  shows  any  sense  of  justice. 
Them  she  does  not  treat  altogether  badly.  She  has 
another  good  quality  closely  allied  with  this  one.  She 
is  liberal  and  generous,  although  economical,  or  rather 
because  economical,  for  without  good  management 
there  can  be  no  true  generosity.  But  it  seems  as  if, 
in  her,  a  good  quality  could  not  proceed  from  a  good 
principle,  and  her  generosity  is  not  the  evidence  of  a 
really  noble  mind.  On  the  contrary,  she  is  naturally 
base  and  sordid.  She  is  only  generous  in  so  far  as 
she  is  dependent  on  those  around  her.  She  tries  to 
make  friends  of  them  merely  because  she  cannot 
convert  them  into  slaves,  for  she  has  often  been 
heard  to  regret  the  abolition  of  slavery.  ...  To 


1 86  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

people  of  whom  nothing  is  to  be  made,  she  is  all 
hardness,  without  either  humanity,  charity  or  compas- 
sion. She  does  not  so  much  as  know  what  these 
virtues  mean,  and  always  sneers  at  them  in  others. 
Consistent,  even  to  her  own  disadvantage,  in  her 
hatred  of  equality,  she  is  always  on  her  marrow-bones 
before  so-called  great  people,  especially  if  they  are 
influential  at  Court,  and  often  she  degrades  herself 
to  no  purpose  whatever.  She  is  quite  astonished 
to  find  that  scarcely  anyone  likes  or  trusts  her,  for 
she  wildly  imagines  that  she  deserves  to  have  friends, 
although  possessing  every  quality  which  can  tend  to 
alienate  them.  Inconsiderate,  tactless,  selfish,  jealous 
— there  you  have  her  character  in  four  words.  .  .  . 
When  she  has  a  contempt  for  people  she  takes 
little  trouble  to  conceal  it.  She  will  shrug  her 
shoulders  when  answering  them.  Under  the  impres- 
sion that  they  cannot  hear  her,  she  will  audibly 
discuss,  with  the  person  next  her,  all  the  points  in 
their  appearance  or  manner  of  which  she  is  pleased 
to  disapprove.  And  after  all  this  she  is  amazed  to 
find  that  the  whole  world  is  not  at  her  feet,  humbly 
awaiting  her  orders.  She  imagines  that  her  want  of 
consideration  for  others  is  a  proof  of  sincerity,  for 
sincerity  is  another  virtue  on  which  she  prides  herself. 
But  she  only  displays  it  to  those  from  whose  resent- 
ment she  has  nothing  to  fear.  True  courageous 
sincerity  is  a  virtue  unknown  to  her,  and  when  she 
sees  it  in  others,  she  calls  it  impertinence." 

Truly    there    is    naught   so   bitter   as   love    turned 
to  hate. 


CHAPTER   XV 

A     NEW     DEPARTURE 

WE  have  now  reached  a  crisis  in  our  heroine's 
career  at  which  it  is  plainly  required  by  all  the 
canons  of  fiction  that  a  suitor  for  her  hand  should  pre- 
sent himself.  As  this  is  not  a  novel,  but  a  record  of 
hard  facts,  I  am  compelled  to  admit  that  nothing  of 
the  kind  occurred.  We  might  certainly  have  thought 
that  now  or  never  was  the  opportunity  of  d'Alembert, 
and  it  does  in  effect  appear  that  some  such  impression 
was  current  about  this  time  in  his  own  circle.  Eventu- 
ally the  rumour  reached  Voltaire  in  his  retreat  at 
Ferney.  "  Is  it  true,"  he  asks  in  one  of  his  letters 
to  Damilaville,  "that  Protagoras  [his  nickname  for 
d'Alembert]  is  going  to  be  married  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse  ?  "  But  his  curiosity  is  speedily  set  at  rest 
by  a  letter  from  the  person  chiefly  concerned,  who 
with  much  irritability  flatly  denies  the  soft  impeach- 
ment. "  Good  Lord,"  is  his  comment,  "  what  should 
/do  with  a  wife  and  children  ?  "  He  is  much  too  poor 
to  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  if  he  had  a  little  money, 
his  choice  would  be  a  solitary  life  in  the  country. 
(This  last  statement  I  entirely  disbelieve.  He  could 
never  have  existed  out  of  Paris.)  The  4ady  with 
whose  name  his  own  has  been  unwarrantably  coupled 
is  indeed  deserving  of  all  possible  respect,  and  might 
well  make  any  husband  happy,  but  she  is  worthy  of  a 
more  eligible  alliance  than  he  can  offer,  and  there  is 
nothing  between  them  but,  etc.  etc.  etc. 
187 


1 88  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

This  categorical  statement  seems  to  have  convinced 
Voltaire,  who  wrote  to  Damilaville  :  "  Protagoras  is 
not  married.  It  would  be  well  if  he  were,  that  he 
might  have  sons  like  himself,  and  it  is  well  if  he  is 
not,  seeing  that  his  fortune  is  not  in  accordance  with 
his  merits." 

Was  poverty  really  the  obstacle  which  stood  be- 
tween d'Alembert  and  his  beloved?  His  income  had, 
of  late  years,  materially  increased.  The  French 
Government,  in  tardy  recognition  of  his  scientific 
achievements,  had  bestowed  on  him  a  pension  of  fifty 
pounds.  The  payments1  for  attendance  at  the  meet- 
ings of  his  two  Academies  (Academic  Fran9aise,  and 
Academic  des  Sciences)  brought  in  another  fifty  pounds, 
more  or  less.  But  he  had  certainly  other  sources,  or 
at  least  expectations,  of  revenue,  probably  in  connec- 
tion with  his  literary  undertakings,  for  at  the  time  of 
his  death,  in  1783,  his  income  amounted  to  something 
like  1000  pounds,  a  very  respectable  sum  for  those  days. 
Julie,  on  her  side,  was  by  no  means  penniless.  Be- 
sides the  annuities  already  mentioned,  she  had  re- 
ceived two  more;  one,  in  1758,  of  about  twenty-five 
pounds,  the  other,  in  October  1763,  amounting  to  nearly 
ninety  pounds  ;  both,  it  is  supposed,  being  bestowed  by 
Government,  through  the  intervention  of  the  minister, 
Choiseul,  whose  friendship  with  Madame  du  Deffand 
is  well  known.  The  truth  appears  to  be  either  that 
the  philosopher  had  an  excessive  terror  of  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  married  life,  or  that,  in  his  heart  of 
hearts,  he  feared  a  refusal,  divining,  as  he  can  scarcely 

1  The  meetings  of  the  Academic  Franchise  were  held  three  times  a 
week.  Each  member  present  received  a  crown  (six  francs),  besides  his 
share  of  the  portion  of  those  who  absented  themselves.  The  prudent 
Madame  Geoffrin  used  to  scold  her  prote'ge',  Marmontel,  for  staying  away 
from  meetings  and  thus  losing  money. 


A   NEW    DEPARTURE  189 

have  failed  to  do,  that  the  lady's  feelings  towards  him, 
however  friendly,  were  not  the  same  as  his  feelings 
towards  her. 

The  problem  of  Julie's  future  was  not  then  to  be 
solved  by  marriage.  Far  more  original  was  the 
career  on  which,  with  the  aid  of  her  numerous  ad- 
mirers, she  now  embarked.  Madame  du  Deffand 
must  indeed  have  gnashed  her  teeth  over  the  too 
literal  fulfilment  of  her  good  wishes  concerning  those 
"real  friends"  of  whom  Julie  expected  so  much — es- 
pecially as  the  friends  aforesaid  comprised  nearly  the 
whole  of  her  own  circle.  Even  such  close  allies  as 
Henault  and  Madame  de  Luxembourg  took  sides  with 
her  new-made  enemy,  all,  without  exception,  being  of 
opinion  that  the  girl  had  been  unfairly  treated. 
Madame  du  Deffand  sullenly  endured  this  divided 
allegiance,  and  did  not  again  resort  to  the  extremity 
which  had  succeeded  so  badly  in  the  case  of  d'Alem- 
bert.  She  seems,  however,  to  have  flashed  into  anger 
against  her  nephew,  Abel  de  Vichy,  who  had  em- 
braced the  cause  of  his  former  instructress  with  all 
the  enthusiasm  of  an  affectionate  and  honest-natured 
boy.  She  went,  indeed,  so  far  as  to  complain  to  the 
young  man's  father,  but  Gaspard,  to  do  him  justice, 
appears  on  this  occasion  to  have  sided,  more  or  less, 
with  his  daughter. 

The  scheme  devised  by  her  friends  for  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  was  briefly  this  :  that  she  should  take  a 
set  of  rooms  and  there  establish  a  salon  for  herself. 
It  is  not  easy  for  us  to  realise  the  extraordinary 
originality  of  this  project.  The  mere  circumstance 
of  living  alone  in  lodgings  was  for  a  single  woman 
of  good  reputation  almost  undreamed  of.  The 
ordinary  course  would  have  been  to  board  in  a 


1 9o  A    STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

convent  (which  with  Julie's  present  income  she  could 
have  comfortably  done),  and  from  time  to  time  to 
vary  the  monotony  by  paying  visits  to  friends  out- 
side. This,  for  example,  was  the  way  of  life  adopted 
by  Mademoiselle  d'Ette,  the  false  friend  of  Madame 

*   / 

d'Epinay.  For  a  single  woman  (always  excepting 
actresses  and  ladies  of  the  Ninon  de  Lenclos  order) 
to  become  in  her  own  person  the  centre  of  a  distin- 
guished social  circle  was  a  more  extraordinary 
phenomenon  still.  Even  in  England  or  America 
at  the  present  day,  it  would  scarcely  be  possible 
without  a  considerable  fortune.  But  Julie  de  Les- 
pinasse  was  actually  to  be  subsidised  for  the  purposes 
of  salon  keeping,  much  as  the  editor  of  a  literary 
paper,  run  at  a  loss,  might  be  subsidised  by  a 
millionaire  in  our  own  time.  Nothing  shows  more 
plainly  the  importance  formerly  attached  to  the  now 
neglected  art  of  conversation.  In  "Lady  Rose's 
Daughter,"  it  will  be  remembered  that  the  heroine 
in  like  circumstances  took,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to 
journalism,  in  which  her  influential  friends  procured 
her  all  kinds  of  introductions.  Nobody  ever  thought 
of  suggesting  authorship  to  Mademoiselle  de  Les- 
pinasse,  well  as  we  have  seen  that  she  could  write. 
It  was  felt  that  she  could  serve  her  generation,  and 
maintain  her  own  social  standing,  far  better  by 
talking. 

The  lodgings  were  duly  taken,  the  furniture  being 
provided  by  Madame  de  Luxembourg.  Renault, 
Turgot,  d'Usse",  and  Madame  de  Chatillon  subscribed 
a  sum  sufficient  to  cover  the  initial  expenses  of  the  new 
establishment,  for  it  appears  that  Julie  had  no  ready 
money  in  hand.  The  latest  addition  to  her  income 
(between  eighty  and  ninety  pounds)  had  only,  it  will 


A   NEW   DEPARTURE  191 

be  remembered,  been  guaranteed  to  her  in  October  of 
the  previous  year,  and  though  on  the  strength  of  it 
she  had  probably  expended  the  whole  of  the  sixty 
or  seventy  pounds  which  she  already  possessed,  divi- 
dends of  all  kinds  were  then  so  habitually  in  arrear 
that  it  is  quite  possible  she  had  not  yet  received  the 
first  instalment. 

But  a  more  effectual  helper  than  any  of  those  above 
enumerated  now  appeared  on  the  scene,  in  the  person 
of  Madame  Geoffrin.  That  most  generous  and  kindly 
of  women  had  never  yet  encountered  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  in  the  flesh,  for  as  the  mistress  of 
a  salon,  in  its  way  quite  as  distinguished  as  that  of 
St  Joseph,  she  was  regarded  by  Madame  du  Deffand 
in  the  light  of  an  enemy.  She  had,  however,  a  long- 
standing friendship  with  d'Alembert,  whose  mother 
(in  the  circumstances  a  curious  coincidence)  had  first 
initiated  her  into  the  charms  of  literary  society. 
Knowing  her  almost  boundless  liberality  and  her 
passion  for  surrounding  herself  with  interesting 
people,  d'Alembert  sought  to  enlist  her  sympathies 
on  behalf  of  Julie,  and  with  entire  success.  Some 
human  satisfaction  at  the  thought  of  disobliging 
her  rival,  Madame  du  Deffand,  may  in  the  first 
instance  have  qualified  the  kindly  impulse  which 
induced  her  to  hold  out  a  helping  hand,  but  as 
soon  as  she  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  her  new 
protegee  all  inferior  considerations  were  merged  in 
a  strong  and  lasting  affection  which  might  justly  be 
styled  maternal. 

As  was  usual  in  her  case,  her  feelings  presently 
found  an  extremely  substantial  form  of  expression. 
In  October  of  that  same  year  (1764)  she  laid  out 
20,000  francs  on  the  purchase  (at  ten  per  cent.)  of 


1 92  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

a  life  annuity  for  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  thus  increasing 
her  income  by  2000  francs  (equal  to  ^87  of  the 
contemporary  English  currency).  Not  only  so,  but 
she  paid  her  in  addition  a  yearly  pension  of  3000 
francs  (rather  over  ^130),  observing  on  the  subject 
of  this  last  benefaction  a  silence  so  inviolable  that 
its  existence  was  never  suspected  by  the  outer  world 
till  both  women  had  passed  away.  To  obtain  the 
funds  necessary  for  this  princely  munificence,  Madame 
Geoffrin  sacrificed  three  of  her  most  valuable  pic- 
tures. 

Taken  altogether,  our  heroine's  income  would  thus 
amount  to  about  8500  francs  (or  ^370 l  in  English 
money  of  that  day).  Her  lodgings,  which  will  pres- 
ently be  described,  were  taken  on  a  nine  years'  lease 
at  a  rent  of  950  francs  (about  ^41,  ios.).  From 
contemporary  documents  it  would  appear  that  in  the 
matter  of  repairs  the  landlord's  responsibility  was 
then,  roughly  speaking,  the  same  as  at  present,  and 
included  certain  sanitary  precautions,  into  the  details 
of  which  it  is  not  advisable  here  to  enter,  though  the 
reflections  aroused  by  them  are  of  a  sufficiently  appal- 
ing  nature.  A  clause  in  the  lease  bound  Mademois- 
elle de  Lespinasse  to  pay  yearly  "42  livres,  10  sols" 
(about  £it  175.)  towards  the  wages  of  the  portier, 
or  in  modern  terms  the  concierge,  who  then,  as 
now,  was  a  prominent  figure  in  the  life  of  Parisian 
lodging-houses.  By  proverbial  repute  a  surly  and 
unsympathetic  functionary  (except  when  under  the 
prospective  influence  of  New  Year  benefactions),  he 
pursued  some  sedentary  trade,  such  as  tailoring  or 

1  Afterwards  increased  by  other  annuities,  of  which  the  sources  are 
unknown ;  towards  the  end  of  her  life  she  seems  to  have  had  as  much 
as  £s°°  a  year. 


MADAlftE   GEOFFRIN 

FKOM    THE   PORTRAIT   BY   CHARDIN    IN   THE   MUSEE   DE   MONTPELLIER 


A   NEW   DEPARTURE  193 

shoemaking,  in  the  invisible  recesses  of  his  lodge, 
responding  in  silence  to  the  ever-recurring  request 
for  le  cordon. 

Julie's  landlord  was  by  trade  a  "master joiner,"  and 
her  rooms  occupied  the  second  and  third  floors  of  a 
modest  house,  no  longer  existing,  at  the  junction  of 
the  Rue  Bellechasse  and  the  Rue  St  Dominique,  about 
a  hundred  yards  from  the  abode  of  her  former  pro- 
tectress. In  Paris  most  houses,  except  those  of  the 
very  poor,  were  then  built  round  a  courtyard,  and 
accordingly  we  find  that  some  of  the  windows  of  our 
heroine's  apartment  looked  upon  "the  court,"  and 
some  upon  the  street,  the  latter  commanding  a  view 
on  one  side  of  the  Convent  of  Bellechasse,  which  faced 
the  beginning  of  the  street  called  by  its  name,  on  the 
other  of  the  magnificent  hotel  of  the  de  Broglie  family, 
situated  at  the  corner  opposite  to  the  comparatively 
humble  structure  occupied  by  the  master  joiner's 
tenants.  The  Faubourg  St  Germain,  to  which 
belonged  the  Rue  St  Dominique  and  the  Rue  Belle- 
chasse, must  have  been  a  far  pleasanter  locality  than 
the  more  crowded  quarters  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Louvre,  and  it  is  not  strange  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  should  have  elected  to  remain  there. 
In  this  favoured  district,  then  as  now  beloved  by  the 
aristocracy,  the  more  important  streets,  such  as  the 
Rue  St  Dominique,  were  still  formed  mainly  of 
convents  and  the  hotels,  or  town  houses,  of  great 
nobles.  Land  was  as  yet  plentiful  on  this  side  of  the 
river,  and  the  actual  country  not  far  off,  and  hence 
these  establishments,  both  religious  and  secular,  were 
stately  buildings,  provided  with  splendid  gardens — 
circumstances  which  ensured  good  air  and  quiet 
in  at  least  a  comparative  degree.  The  Rue  Belle- 

N 


i94  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

chasse,1  in  which  the  joiner's  house  was  partly  situated, 
was  a  much  smaller  and  humbler  street  than  the  Rue 
St  Dominique,  from  whence  it  branched  off,  and  con- 
tained a  larger  proportion  of  dwellings  adapted  to 
persons  of  moderate  means  ;  and  hence  was  naturally 
selected  by  our  heroine.2 

The  rooms  occupied  by  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse 
in  right  of  the  modest  rent  above  mentioned  were  ten 
in  number,  five  on  each  ttage.  On  the  second  floor 
was,  first,  a  small  anteroom,  used  in  those  days  as  a 
kind  of  servants'  hall,  where  the  male  domestic  or 
domestics  were  supposed  to  wait  in  readiness  for  a 
call  from  the  salon.  Such  being  its  use,  we  are  glad 
to  find  that  the  furniture  of  the  anteroom,  besides 
"six  chairs  stuffed  with  straw"  and  "six  walnut  wood 
arm-chairs,"  included  "a  stove  of  marbled  earthen- 
ware." The  wicked  luxuriousness  of  modern  servants 
in  requiring  fires  for  their  special  behoof  is  a  favourite 
subject  for  the  jeremiads  of  eighteenth-century  lauda- 
tores  temporis  acti,  but  evidently  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse  was  in  this  matter,  as  in  most  others,  of 
the  new  school.  From  the  antechamber  opened  the 
salon,  a  room  of  moderate  dimensions,  but  furnished 
(by  the  generosity,  as  we  have  seen,  of  the  Mar^chale 
Duchesse  de  Luxembourg)  in  the  height  of  con- 
temporary fashion.  The  walls  were  covered  with  a 
wainscoting  of  white  wood  relieved  by  gilding,  with 
mirrors  inlet.  The  hangings  were  of  crimson  taffetas, 
the  arm-chairs  and  couches  (of  which  we  reckon  about 
sixteen  all  told)  were  also  chiefly  upholstered  in 

1  Julie's  letters  are  directed  to  the  "  Rue  St  Dominique,  opposite  Belle- 
chasse."     But  to  avoid  confusion  with  her  former  abode  at  St  Joseph  her 
lodgings  will  hereafter  be  spoken  of  as  in  the  Rue  Bellechasse. 

2  All  these  topographical  details  are  taken  from  the  "  Histoire  Generale 
de  Paris." 


A   NEW   DEPARTURE  195 

crimson.  There  were  several  engravings  from 
pictures  then  much  in  vogue,  among  which  we  speci- 
ally notice  "  The  Village  Bride  "  and  "  The  Little  Girl 
weeping  for  her  Dead  Bird,"  both  after  Greuze.  Over 
the  mantelpiece  was  a  clock,  apparently  of  some  value. 
A  little  marble  bird  upon  a  pedestal  of  gilt  copper, 
marble  busts  of  d' Alembert  and  Voltaire,  and  several 
tables,  some  of  polished  wood  and  some  with  marble 
tops,  are  also  mentioned.  On  the  same  floor  was  the 
bedroom  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  containing  a 
bed  "four  feet  in  width,"  provided  with  a  canopy  and 
curtains  of  crimson  damask,  two  mattresses  stuffed 
with  wool,  a  bolster  stuffed  with  feathers,  and  an 
under-mattress  of  flock.  Adjoining  it  was  a  tiny 
dressing-room,  but  I  am  obliged  to  confess  that  in 
the  very  complete  inventory  preserved  of  the  furniture 
of  these  two  apartments,  and  also  of  the  servants' 
bedrooms,  I  can  find  no  mention  of  a  washing  jug 
and  basin,  though  both  the  antechamber  and  kitchen 
seem  to  have  been  equipped  with  some  property  of 
the  kind.  A  bath,  on  the  other  hand,  "of  red  copper, 
in  the  shape  of  a  sabot,"  was  kept  in  a  spare  room  on 
the  upper  floor,  and  from  many  allusions  in  the  letters 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  we  know  that  it  was 
frequently,  if  not  daily,  in  use  by  her.  The  fifth  room 
on  the  second  floor  was  a  small  bedroom  for  the  man- 
servant, almost,  save  for  the  bed,  unfurnished.  On 
the  floor  above  was  the  more  elegant  room  assigned 
to  the  femme-de-chambre,  boasting  a  looking-glass 
and  a  hanging  wardrobe.  Next  to  it  was  the  kitchen 
(which  as  far  as  I  can  understand  had  not  a  stove 
but  an  open  fireplace),  the  empty  apartment,  above 
mentioned,  serving  as  a  lumber  or  box-room,  and  two 
other  rooms,  for  which  at  first  Mademoiselle  de  Les- 


196  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

pinasse   had    apparently    no    use,  and   which    in    the 
sequel  she  decided  to  sub-let. 

Besides  a  charwoman  and  boy  who  assisted  in  the 
heavier  work  of  the  establishment,  Julie  kept  three 
servants  :  a  femme-de-chambre  (i.e.  a  lady's  maid  who 
also  discharged  some  of  the  duties  of  a  housemaid), 
a  footman,  and  a  cook,  who  did  not  sleep  on  the  pre- 
mises. In  her  circumstances  to  keep  a  man-servant 
appears  to  modern  ideas  an  unwarrantable  piece  of 
extravagance,  but  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  as 
mistress  of  a  salon  she  was  henceforth  supposed  to 
be  at  home  to  company  for  four  hours  every  evening, 
and  doubtless  even  during  the  morning  must  have 
received  numerous  visits  and  messages.  The  time 
of  one  servant  would  be  almost  entirely  taken  up  in 
answering  the  door  and  showing  callers  in  and  out, 
to  say  nothing  of  errands,  and  etiquette  demanded 
that  all  these  duties  should  be  discharged  by  a  man. 
The  cost,  besides,  was  not  exorbitant.  By  the  will  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  a  legacy  of  702  francs 
(or  about  ^30)  is  left  to  her  footman,  representing, 
we  are  told,  the  expense  of  his  wages,  food,  and 
clothing  for  a  year.  The  cook,  a  member  of  the 
inferior  sex  (for  though  the  custom  of  employing 
male  chefs  had  spread  widely  during  the  eighteenth 
century,  it  was  still  restricted  to  persons  in  fairly  easy 
circumstances),  is  paid  at  the  slightly  higher  rate  of 
two  francs  a  day.  It  will  be  observed  that  out  of 
these  allowances  the  servants  had  to  provide  their 
own  food,  the  system  of  board-wages  being  then  very 
usual. 

To  the  distinguished  visitors  who  every  evening 
assembled  in  the  white  and  crimson  salon  no  refresh- 
ments were  offered  beyond  an  occasional  bonbon. 


A   NEW   DEPARTURE  197 

Concerning  Julie's  own  standard  of  living,  we  know 
little,  but  sadly  conjecture  that,  like  many  solitary 
women  in  poor  health,  she  was  almost  culpably 
indifferent  on  this  head.  She  certainly  apologises 
profusely  to  a  male  friend  for  asking  him,  on  one 
extraordinary  occasion,  to  share  her  meagre  dinner. 

"  Rates  and  taxes,"  in  their  modern  concrete  sense 
of  a  supplement  to  house-rent,  would  not  figure  largely 
in  the  budget  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse.  For  the 
cleansing  and  lighting  of  the  streets,  operations  which 
were  both  most  inadequately  performed,  all  Parisian 
householders  were  required,  once  in  twenty  years,  to 
pay  down  a  lump  sum,  much,  we  are  told,  in  excess 
of  the  amount  really  spent  on  the  work — though  this 
latter  statement  may  be  partly  due  to  the  taxpayer's 
ineradicable  habit  of  grumbling.  This  imposition, 
however,  was  clearly  the  affair,  not  of  the  tenant,  but  of 
the  landlord.  But  our  modern  "  water-rate "  had 
almost  certainly  its  eighteenth-century  equivalent  in 
the  tenant's  expenses,  though  water-supply,  as  the  term 
is  now  understood,  there  was  none.  No  bourgeois 
house,  says  Mercier,  in  his  "Tableau  de  Paris,"  is 
sufficiently  provided  with  water.  The  wealthy,  we 
may  suppose,  took  care  to  have  private  wells  within 
their  own  precincts.  For  those  of  humbler  degree 
there  was  no  resource  save  the  public  fountains, 
utterly  inadequate  in  number,  provided  in  each 
quarter,  and,  failing  these,  the  water  of  the  river ! 
Twenty  thousand  water-carriers,  says  Mercier,  each 
equipped  with  a  couple  of  pails,  were  busy  all  day 
long  in  carrying  Seine  water  for  drinking  and  house- 
hold purposes,  their  charge  being  from  three  farthings 
to  one  penny  for  each  load.  When  we  consider  that 
the  sweepings  of  the  unspeakably  filthy  streets,  though 


198  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

theoretically  carted  away  to  waste  places  outside 
Paris,  were  through  negligence  often  allowed  to  make 
their  way  into  the  river,  we  are  not  surprised  to  hear 
that  strangers,  on  their  first  arrival  in  this  metropolis, 
were  generally  ill  from  drinking  Seine  water.  What 
we  find  more  difficult  of  comprehension  is  that  any 
of  the  habitual  residents  should  have  escaped  death 
from  typhoid.  From  such  appalling  reflections  one 
turns  with  relief  to  the  pleasanter  task  of  endeavouring 
to  compute  the  daily  expenditure  on  water-carrying, 
at  three-farthings1  for  two  pails,  in  a. household  like 
that  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse.  That  sabot- 
shaped  bath,  in  which,  when  feeling  out  of  sorts,  she 
often  remained  for  hours,  must  have  accounted  for 
many  a  pennyworth  of  water,  for  of  course  in  those 
primitive  times  the  only  way  to  maintain  the  necessary 
degree  of  heat  would  be  by  constantly  renewing  the 
supply  from  that  "  big  cauldron  "  which  figures  in  the 
inventory  of  her  kitchen  furniture. 

In  endeavouring  to  estimate  the  personal  expendi- 
ture of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  we  must  certainly 
allow  a  not  inconsiderable  sum  yearly  for  coach-hire. 
We  have  seen  Arthur  Young's  statement  that  walking 
in  the  streets  of  Paris  was  impossible  for  a  well- 
dressed  woman,  and  this  is  abundantly  confirmed  by 
other  contemporary  authorities,  though  we  certainly 
find  some  exceptions  to  the  rule.  The  wealthy 
Madame  Geoffrin  habitually  made  her  shopping  ex- 
peditions on  foot,  and  we  learn  that  this  was  also  the 
case  with  at  least  one  noble  lady  of  the  period,  who 
seems,  however,  to  have  been  considered  rather  ec- 
centric, and  on  these  occasions  by  no  means  dressed 

1  The  lower  rate  is    selected,  as   her  house   was   not  far  from  the 
Seine. 


A   NEW   DEPARTURE  199 

according  to  her  station.  Women  of  the  eminently 
respectable,  and  on  occasion  faultlessly  attired,  bour- 
geois class,  such  as  Madame  Roland  and  her  mother, 
seldom  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  driving,  unless  the 
distance  were  beyond  a  walk.  But  considering  the 
social  circle  in  which  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse 
moved,  and  the  style  of  dress  required  of  her,  it 
is  scarcely  likely  that  she  can  often  have  walked 
farther  than,  at  most,  the  distance  between  her  new 
home  and  the  Convent  of  St  Joseph,  where  she 
sometimes  visited,  not  Madame  du  Deffand,  but  the 
Duchesse  de  Ch^tillon,  who  was  also  a  dweller  there. 
Yet  her  letters  are  a  continuous  record  of  theatre- 
going,  party-going,  and  visiting.  To  take  one  ex- 
ample only  :  M.  de  Se"gur  tells  us  that  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  Madame  Geoffrin  daily,  and  sometimes 
twice  a  day.  Madame  Geoffrin's  house  was  in  the  Rue 
St  Honored  not  far  from  the  present  situation  of  the 
Rue  Royale.  The  distance  from  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  Bellechasse  (across  the  Pont  Royal,  which  stood 
where  it  now  does)  is  well  over  a  mile.  The  fare  of 
even  a  humble  fiacre  would  be  not  less  than  a  shilling 
each  way.  It  is  very  likely,  however,  that  Madame 
Geoffrin  sent  her  own  carriage  to  take  her  backwards 
and  forwards,  a  piece  of  attention  frequently  shown  by 
wealthy  Parisians  to  their  poorer  friends.  Rousseau, 
indeed,  with  his  usual  graciousness,  complains  that 
this  arrangement  cost  him  more  in  tips  to  the  coach- 
man and  footman  than  cab-hire  would  have  done,  but 
the  kind  and  thoughtful  Madame  Geoffrin  was  just 
the  person  to  guard  against  such  contingencies.  Be- 
yond all  doubt  our  heroine,  in  her  social  pilgrimages, 
had  often  the  use  of  a  carriage  from  other  friends 
besides  Madame  Geoffrin,  yet,  when  every  possible 


200  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

deduction    has    been    made,   there    still    remains   an 
irreducible  residuum  of  expenditure. 

The  expenses  of  dress  l  for  a  lady  who,  so  to  speak, 
was  on  view  every  day  must  also  have  been  far  from 
trifling.  Guibert,  who  was  far  excellence  a  lady's  man, 
and  hence  no  contemptible  judge,  gives  credit  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  for  being  in  this  respect 
an  excellent  manager.  "  Her  economy,"  he  says, 
"was  so  skillful  as  to  be  imperceptible.  She  was 
always  dressed  simply,  but  with  taste.  Everything 
she  wore  was  fresh  and  well-assorted.  She  gave  one 
the  impression  of  a  rich  person  who  had  voluntarily 
chosen  simplicity."  Unfortunately,  her  latest  bio- 
grapher, M.  de  Segur,  seems  inclined  to  question 
her  ability  in  the  management  of  money,  and  more 
especially  as  applied  to  dress,  his  strictures  being 
mainly  based  upon  the  fact  that,  in  the  inventory  of 
her  effects  made  after  her  death,  we  find  enumerated 
no  less  than  forty  gowns  of  silk  and  satin.  Yet  it  is 
possible  that  M.  de  Se"gur  (who,  though  one  of  the 
first  living  authorities  on  this  period,  is  after  all  a 
man !)  may  have  overlooked  one  detail  known  to  most 
women — namely,  that  in  those  days  silk  and  satin 
gowns  practically  went  on  for  ever,  and  hence  these 
forty  dresses  may  represent  the  acquisitions  of  our 
heroine's  twenty-two  years  residence  in  Paris  :  not 
such  a  high  average  after  all.  During  those  twenty- 
two  years  (1754-1776)  there  was  (except  in  hair  dress- 
ing) no  very  drastic  change  of  fashion,  for  the  reign 
of  "simplicity"  did  not  set  in  till  about  1780.  The 

1  Madame  Suard  naively  observes  that  she  was  able  to  save  money  by 
wearing  a  ntgligt  all  day  at  home,  and  only  dressing  when  she  had  an 
invitation  to  supper.  Economy  of  this  sort  would  be  quite  impossible  in 
Julie's  position. 


A   NEW   DEPARTURE  201 

normal  mode  was  still  that  with  which  we  are  familiar 
in  the  pictures  of  Watteau  and  later  artists  :  an  upper 
skirt  with  long  train  and  tight-fitting  (very  tight- 
fitting)  bodice,  and  an  under  skirt  or  "petticoat," 
generally  of  a  different  colour,  the  whole  being  set 
out  with  crinoline.  Under  this  system  there  seems 
no  reason  why  a  dress  ten,  or  even  twenty,  years  old 
should  not,  with  a  little  alteration,  have  passed  muster 
well  enough.  Such  variations  of  fashion  as  did  occur 
seem,  moreover,  to  be  reflected  in  the  wardrobe  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  confirming  our  con- 
jecture that  the  reason  of  her  having  many  gowns 
was  that  she  never  parted  with  any.1  Thus  we  find 
mention  among  her  garments  of  the  "  Polonaise," 
a  so-called  ndgligd  style,  which,  as  we  learn  on  the 
high  authority  of  a  pioneer  fashion-paper  quoted  by 
Grimm,  but  unhappily  not  otherwise  known,  was  in 
vogue  in  the  year  1768  while  the  "  Caraco,"  which 
preceded  the  polonaise,  is  also  duly  represented. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  each  gown  enumerated  in 
the  inventory  above  mentioned  consists  of  a  "  robe  " 
and  "jupon" — i.e.  the  upper  and  under  skirt  already 
particularised — yet  everyone  familiar  with  eighteenth- 
century  pictures  must  have  observed  that  the  upper 
and  under  skirt  are  there  scarcely  ever  represented 
as  similar.  The  inference  would  seem  to  be  that  the 
"  robe  "  of  one  costume  was  generally  worn  with  the 
"jupon  "  of  another,  a  method  which  would  produce, 
at  a  comparatively  trifling  cost,  an  almost  bewildering 
impression  of  variety. 

In   estimating   Julie's   character  as  an   economist, 

1  Her  dresses  overflowed  every  room  in  the  establishment,  even  to  the 
kitchen.  In  the  matter  of  underlinen  her  possessions  were  on  a  similar 
scale,  and  included  more  than  seventy  chemises. 


202  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

there  is  another  consideration  which  must  not  be 
overlooked.  It  was  then  perfectly  usual,  and  in  no 
way  discreditable,  for  ladies  in  poor  circumstances 
to  receive  presents  of  dress  from  their  richer  friends. 
Thus  Madame  Geoffrin  gives  a  beautiful  gown  to  the 
young  Madame  Suard  ;  Madame  de  Parabere  bestows 
a  taffetas  brochd  dress  on  Mademoiselle  A'isse  ;  Ma- 
dame de  Grammont,  hearing  that  Mademoiselle  Clairon 
is  obliged,  under  the  pretext  of  mourning,  to  appear 
always  in  black,  at  once  supplies  the  deficiency  in 
her  wardrobe ;  and  in  all  cases  the  attitude  of  the 
recipients  is  that  of  unqualified  pleasure  and  grati- 
tude. That  a  woman  so  popular  with  her  own  sex, 
and  possessing  so  many  wealthy  female  friends,  as 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  could  not  have  had 
such  presents  in  abundance,  if  she  wished,  is  scarcely 
probable.  It  is  more  likely  that  while,  to  quote 
Guibert,  "  she  never  asked  for  gifts  of  this  sort, 
and  often  refused  them,"  she  did  accept  a  certain 
number,  enough  perhaps  to  account  for  an  appreciable 
proportion  of  the  "forty  silk  and  satin"  toilettes,  and 
the  numerous  garments  of  fur  which  also  figure  in  her 
wardrobe. 

On  the  whole,  it  seems  as  if  she  may,  after  all,  have 
deserved  her  reputation  for  good  management,  a  re- 
putation on  which  she  appears,  as  is  only  natural,  to 
have  prided  herself  more  than  on  her  unparalleled 
social  achievements. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE    DESTROYER   OF    BEAUTY 

'"PHE  new  salon  thus  launched  on  its  career  had 
from  the  first  an  enormous  vogue.  Tasting  the 
sweets  of  victory  and  freedom,  Mademoiselle  de  Les- 
pinasse  was  probably  happier  than  she  had  been  at 
any  former  period  of  her  life.  But  little  more  than 
a  year  after  she  had  entered  on  this  stage  of  her 
career  a  great  trouble  fell  upon  her,  in  the  dangerous 
illness  of  the  most  devoted  and  serviceable  of  her 
adherents.  D'Alembert's  health,  always  frail,  had 
for  some  time  been  worse  than  usual.  His  corre- 
spondence with  Voltaire  during  the  summer  of  1764 
tells  a  dire  tale  of  his  sufferings  from  indigestion. 
His  friends,  he  says,  persuaded  him,  much  against 
his  will,  to  consult  a  doctor,  who  did  him  more  harm 
than  good  ;  a  statement  which,  in  view  of  the  medical 
treatment  then  obtaining,  we  are  cheerfully  willing  to 
accept.  Wisely  enough  he  discontinued  the  medicines 
prescribed  for  him,  and,  less  wisely,  resorted  instead 
to  what  he  called  a  regimen  of  his  own 1  (i.e.  to  a 
further  diminution  of  his  already  insufficient  allow- 
ance of  food),  and  by  this  he  confidently  hoped  to 
obtain  a  complete  recovery. 

There  were  limits,  however,  even  to  the  virtue  of 
starvation,  and  in  July  of  the  following  year,  1765,  he 
fell  ill  of  internal  inflammation,  accompanied  by  fever. 

1  Besides  observing  a  narrow  and  highly  monotonous  diet  he  was  a 
total  abstainer — a  very  rare  thing  in  those  days,  especially  in  France. 
203 


204  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

For  some  days  his  physician  feared  the  worst.  "  I 
have  had  one  foot  in  Charon's  bark,"  he  wrote  himself 
to  Voltaire,  "and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  not  un- 
willing to  enter  it  altogether."  As  is  often  the  case, 
however,  with  delicate  people,  his  grasp  on  life  was 
extraordinarily  strong,  and  in  about  a  week  he  had 
turned  the  corner  towards  recovery.  It  would  be  alike 
unnecessary  and  ungracious  to  inquire  how  far  this 
happy  result  was  due  to  the  vigorous  blistering  and 
bleeding  of  his  medical  attendant,  since  that  gentleman, 
with  a  noteworthy  exercise  of  common  sense,  atoned 
for  all  his  other  prescriptions  by  pronouncing  that  the 
narrow,  crowded,  filthy  Rue  Michel  le  Comte,  and  the 
stuffy  bedroom  over  the  glazier's  shop,  were  deadly  to 
the  invalid,  and  authoritatively  ordering  him  to  seek 
a  more  healthy  locality,  as  soon  as  he  could  bear  re- 
moval. On  hearing  this,  Watelet,  a  wealthy  friend  of 
d'Alembert's,  destined  hereafter  to  play  a  curious  part 
in  the  history  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  at  once 
offered  the  hospitality  of  his  spacious  and  easily  acces- 
sible hotel,  which  was  situated  near  the  Boulevard  du 
Temple,  and  hither  the  convalescent  was  transported, 
and  soon  felt  all  the  benefits  of  better  air  and  compara- 
tive quiet.  He  was,  we  are  told,  in  high  spirits,  and, 
despite  his  professions  to  Voltaire,  it  is  plain  that  life 
seemed  to  him  then  worth  living.  For  this  he  had  a 
stronger  reason  than  even  the  relief  from  agonising 
pain,  or  the  change  to  pleasant  and  congenial  sur- 
roundings, for,  in  the  valley  of  the  shadow  he  had 
found  unmistakable  proof  of  the  value  set  on  his 
life  by  the  one  woman  in  the  world.  No  fear  of 
misrepresentation,  no  scruple  of  decorum  could  hinder 
Julie  de  Lespinasse  from  taking  up  her  place  at  the 
bedside  of  her  suffering  friend,  whom  she  nursed  with 


THE   DESTROYER   OF   BEAUTY          205 

all  the  devotion  of  an  affectionate  sister.  No  one, 
says  Marmontel,  thought  the  worse  of  her  for  this 
— and  it  may  be  true,  for  the  tolerance  of  those  times, 
though  extended  to  many  actions  by  no  means  deserv- 
ing of  it,  was  sometimes  rather  fine  in  its  disregard 
for  conventionalities  as  opposed  to  feelings. 

Full  of  solicitude  for  her  patient  she  begged  him  not 
again  to  expose  himself  to  the  dangers  of  his  insanitary 
lodging  in  the  Rue  Michel  le  Comte,  with  the  additional 
hardship  of  a  long  walk  every  evening  in  all  weathers  ; 
for  it  may  easily  be  believed  that  he  was  at  least  as 
assiduous  in  his  attendance  on  her  salon  as  he  had 
been  in  his  visits  to  St  Joseph,  and  the  distance,  as 
we  have  seen,  was  much  the  same  in  both  cases.  She 
had  two  rooms  on  her  upper  floor,  which  were  really 
no  use  to  her  except  to  contain  lumber,  why  should  he 
not  rent  them  of  her?  The  money  would  be  a  help 
to  her,  and  he  would  be  in  good  air,  and  able  to  have 
her  company  at  any  moment  without  fatigue.  People 
might  talk  (this  objection  would  probably  come  from 
d'Alembert,  who,  perhaps  from  his  wider  experience, 
was  far  more  concerned  about  the  propriety  of  the 
arrangement  than  she).  Well,  let  them  talk !  Every- 
body whose  opinion  they  cared  for  would  know  that  it 
was  all  right. 

D'Alembert  was  not  proof  against  reasoning  so 
strongly  supported  by  his  own  inclination.  He  was 
reluctant  to  leave  his  kind  old  nurse,  but  he  did  his 
best  to  make  up  for  the  pecuniary  loss  by  a  pension  of 
twenty-six  pounds,  and  for  the  "  moral  damage  "  by 
visiting  her  twice  a  week.  In  his  letter  to  Voltaire  of 
1 3th  August  he  announces  the  contemplated  change  of 
abode  in  terms  which  really  furnish  a  first-rate  example 
of  the  suppressio  veri,  for  Julie  is  not  once  alluded  to 


206  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  am  going  to  be  weaned  ?  At 
forty-seven  I  cannot  be  said  to  be  beginning  too 
young !  I  am  leaving  my  nurse,  with  whom  I  have 
been  for  twenty-five  years  [i.e.  since  leaving  the 
College  des  Quatre  Nations].  I  had  nothing  to  com- 
plain of  as  far  as  she  was  concerned,  but  I  was  boxed 
up  in  a  hole  where  I  could  not  breathe,  and  I  feel  that 
I  must  have  air,1  so  I  am  going  to  move  to  a  lodging 
where  it  can  be  had." 

Henceforth  the  friends  lived  together,  the  house 
being  shared,  as  d'Alembert  in  the  supposed  interests 
of  propriety  was  careful  to  explain,  by  two  other 
lodgers.  For  his  two  rooms  he  paid  a  rent  of  about 
seventeen  pounds,  but  a  large  proportion  of  his  time 
was  certainly  spent  downstairs  in  the  apartments  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse.  M.  de  Segur  is  of  opinion 
that  they  even  had  a  common  housekeeping  fund  and 
took  their  meals  together,  and  it  is  in  any  case  certain 
that  they  lived  on  terms  of  the  most  affectionate  and 
confidential  intimacy,  and  that  when,  towards  the  close 
of  her  life,  Julie  had  thoughts  of  changing  house, 
d'Alembert  was  to  have  accompanied  her  as  armatter 
of  course.  So  close  an  association  between  a  man  of 
forty-seven  and  a  woman  of  thirty-two  would  not,  of 
course,  be  possible  in  our  days  without  considerable 
scandal.  That  it  was  possible  then,  and  excited  no 
disapproval  in  such  women  as  Madame  Geoffrin  and 
Madame  Necker,  is  another  proof  that  the  society  of 
that  period,  notwithstanding  its  shameful  habit  of  call- 
ing evil  good  and  good  evil,  could  sometimes  recognise 

1  The  fact  that  d'Alembert,  as  a  baby,  in  comparison  with  his  condition 
in  the  purer  air  of  the  country,  flourished  in  this  unhealthy  atmosphere, 
is  a  terrible  proof  of  the  neglect  from  which  he  must  have  suffered  before 
the  good  woman  of  the  Rue  Michel  le  Comte  took  him  in  hand. 


THE   DESTROYER   OF   BEAUTY          207 

real  innocence  in  spite  of  unfavourable  appearances. 
"  Nothing  could  be  more  innocent  than  their  relations," 
says  Marmontel,  "and  they  were  respected  accordingly. 
Even  malice  never  attacked  them,  and  the  high  esti- 
mation in  which  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  was  held, 
so  far  from  being  diminished,  was  thereby  increased." 
The  atrabilious  Jean-Jacques  in  substance  confirms 
this  statement,  though  the  terms  he  employs  and  the 
grounds  on  which  he  bases  his  confidence  are  widely 
different  from  those  just  cited.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  historian  Hume,  afterwards  a  great  friend  of  Julie, 
writes,  in  a  letter  dated  22nd  September  1764  :  "  I  went 
to  see  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  d'Alembert's  mis- 
tress, who  is  really,"  he  adds,  "  one  of  the  most  sensible 
women  of  Paris."  To  English  readers,  however,  this 
phrase  (which,  moreover,  was  written  a  year  before  the 
inauguration  of  the  joint  establishment)  will  scarcely 
bear  the  same  meaning  as  to  the  French  biographers 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  who  are,  most  naturally, 
unaware  that  in  1764  the  word  "mistress"  was  far 
from  having  entirely  lost  its  ancient  and  honourable 
signification,  and  in  Hume's  mouth  probably  meant 
"the  lady  with  whom  d'Alembert  is  in  love."1 

That  one  person,  at  all  events,  and  that  person 
d'Alembert  himself,  was  nervously  alive  to  the  possi- 
bility of  unfavourable  comment,  is  obvious.  We  have 
already  seen  in  how  irritable  a  fashion  he  negatived 
the  rumours  of  his  approaching  marriage,  which  in 
the  spring  of  1766  had  elicited  a  friendly  inquiry 

i  It  is  so  used,  e.g.,  in  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  where,  at  a  family 
dinner  party,  the  excellent  Moses  is  bantered  on  dreaming  of  his  "  mis- 
tress"— that  is,  of  the  irreproachable  Miss  Flamborough.  Maria  in  The 
School  for  Scandal  is  called  Joseph  Surface's  "mistress,"  because  he  is 
anxious  to  marry  her.  Dr  Johnson  always  spoke  of  Mrs  Thrale  as  "  my 
mistress." 


208  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

from  Voltaire.     After  the  denial  quoted  in  a  previous 
chapter  he  goes  on  thus  : 

"  I  am  living  at  present  in  the  same  house  with  this 
lady,  where  there  are  two  other  lodgers  besides  our- 
selves, and  that  is  the  cause  of  this  report.  I  have  no 
doubt  besides  that  it  has  had  a  helping  hand  from 
Madame  du  Deffand,  with  whom  I  am  told  you 
correspond,  though  why  you  do,  I  can't  think.  She 
knows  very  well  that  there  is  no  marriage  in  the  case, 
but  she  would  like  to  make  people  think  that  there 
is  something  else.  A  wicked  old  hag1  like  her  can 
never  believe  that  any  women  are  virtuous.  Happily 
she  is  well  known,  and  believed  no  more  than  she 
deserves." 

Julie,  on  her  side,  seems  to  have  been  serenely 
happy  and  free  from  all  misgiving. 

"  Torn  as  a  child  from  her  home,"  says  M.  de  Segur, 
in  a  passage  marked  by  rare  sympathy  and  insight, 
"  hustled  about  from  house  to  house,  always  a  stranger 
and  an  alien,  she  believed  that  after  all  her  wanderings 
she  had  reached  a  peaceful  and  sheltered  haven.  No 
less  did  she  enjoy  the  new  sensation  of  independence, 
the  power  of  satisfying  her  tastes,  and  living  her  life 
as  she  pleased,  with  no  one  to  call  her  to  account. 
But  most  of  all,  after  long  and  cruel  suffering  from 
the  coldness  or  hostility  of  those  with  whom  her  lot 
had  been  cast,  she  experienced  the  deep  joy  of  feeling 
herself  enveloped  by  the  warm  tenderness  of  a  faith- 
ful affection.  .  .  .  This  peace,  this  intoxication  of 
liberty,  this  infinite  sweetness  of  being  beloved,  caused 

1  "Hag"  is  only  an  approximation  to  the  original  word,  of  which  a 
more  literal  version  appears  unadvisable. 


THE   DESTROYER   OF   BEAUTY          209 

her  at  times,  as  she  herself  said,  to  feel  '  terrified ' l  at 
her  own  happiness." 

It  is  easy  enough  to  understand  why  this  way  of 
life  should  have  seemed  more  ideally  perfect  to  the 
woman  than  to  the  man.  Julie,  we  may  surmise,  had 
never  considered  d'Alembert  in  the  light  of  a  possible 
husband,  or,  properly  speaking,  of  a  lover.  The  men 
who  in  this  sense  had  power  to  move  her  feelings — 
Mora,  Guibert,  the  shadowy  Taaffe — were  all  of  a 
very  different  order  from  the  distinguished  mathe- 
matician. The  sore  and  irritable  sensitiveness  of 
d'Alembert  whenever  the  subject  was  referred  to 
shows  plainly,  on  the  other  hand,  that  he  had  scarcely 
as  yet  abandoned  the  dream  of  entering  into  a  closer 
relation  with  the  mistress  of  his  heart.  That,  for  the 
reasons  probably  which  have  been  already  suggested, 
he  did  ultimately  abandon  it,  is  certain.  In  the  end 
he  came  to  regard  the  existing  order  of  things  as  the 
only  one  possible,  and  it  was  not  till  after  the  death 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  that  he  realised,  with 
a  terrible  shock,  how  far  she  had  been  from  regarding 
the  strange  tie  between  them  as  binding  on  her  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  thoughts  of  love  or  marriage. 

Their  joint  existence  was,  at  the  outset,  disturbed 
by  a  trouble  which  had  perhaps  the  effect  of  drawing 
them  still  more  closely  to  one  another.2  In  the 

1  "  You  told  me  ten  years  ago  that  you  were  terrified  by  the  happiness 
which  I  had  brought  you,"  writes  the  heart-broken  d'Alembert,  in  his 
apostrophe  to  her  after  her  death,  in  1776. 

2  It  is  with  much  diffidence  that  the  writer  ventures  on  this  point  to 
question  the  high  authority  of  the  Marquis  de  Sdgur,  who  places  the 
attack  of  small-pox  before  d'Alembert' s  bad  illness  in  August  1765.     But 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  observed  that  the  (undated)  letter  in  which 
Hume  announces  "  Mademoiselle  1'Espinasse  is  dangerously  ill  of  the 
small-pox.    I  am  glad  to  find  that  d'Alembert  forgets  his  philosophy  on  that 
occasion,"  also  contains  an  allusion  to  some  dreadful  mistake  just  made 

O 


210  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

autumn  of  1765  Julie  fell  dangerously  ill  with  small- 
pox, that  awful  scourge  by  which,  as  the  Brothers 
Goncourt  compute,  one  Frenchwoman  in  every  four 
was  then  permanently  disfigured.  In  England,  at 
this  time,  its  ravages  were  on  a  more  moderate  scale, 
owing,  as  was  generally  believed,  to  the  practice  of 
inoculation,  imported  from  Turkey  about  the  begin- 
ning of  the  century  by  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague. 
Terrible,  indeed,  as  such  a  prophylactic  from  our 
modern  point  of  view  appears,  it  is  scarcely  possible 
for  a  fair-minded  investigator  to  deny  that  it  did  ap- 
preciably diminish  both  the  mortality  and  the  risk 
of  disfigurement.  In  this  matter,  as  in  so  many 
others,  the  example  of  England  was  longingly  re- 
garded by  the  party  of  progress  across  the  Channel. 
In  France,  inoculation  though  not  wholly  unknown, 
was  frowned  upon  by  the  clerical,  the  legal,  and,  to  a 
great  extent,  the  medical  professions.  For  a  time  it 
was  even  prohibited  by  law,  and  at  least  one  notable 
person  was  imprisoned  for  advocating  it.  In  1756 
the  Duke  of  Orleans  threw  his  influence  on  the  side 
of  the  new  doctrine  by  sending  for  Tronchin,  the 
famous  Swiss  physician,  to  inoculate  his  son — the 

by  the  physician  Gatti,  who  is  in  consequence  much  reviled  and  driven 
almost  to  despair  (Letter  to  the  Countess  de  Boufflers,  in  "Private  Corre- 
spondence of  David  Hume  with  several  distinguished  Persons").  This 
mistake  is  plainly  that  referred  to  by  Grimm  in  his  letter  of  1 5th  September 
1765  (Correspondence,  vol.  4)  as  having  just  been  discovered,  Gatti 
had  inoculated  the  Duchesse  (not  the  Countess)  de  Boufflers  two  years  and 
a  half  previously,  and  had  guaranteed  her  as  safe  from  small-pox.  Not- 
withstanding this,  she  had,  when  Grimm  wrote,  been  attacked  by  the 
dreaded  malady,  and  Gatti  was,  in  consequence,  denounced  as  a  charlatan. 
It  is  also  noticeable  that  in  the  letters  of  d'Alembert  and  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  to  Hume  in  the  spring  and  summer  of  1766  her  illness  is 
spoken  of  as  quite  recent,  which  could  hardly  be  the  case  if  it  dated  back 
a  twelvemonth  and  more  ("  Letters  of  Eminent  Persons  to  David  Hume." 
Ed.  Burton). 


THE   DESTROYER   OF   BEAUTY          211 

future  6galite — a  step  which  created  a  tremendous 
sensation,  and  caused  the  Duke  to  be  regarded  some- 
what in  the  light  of  a  Roman  father.  A  considerable 
impetus  was  thus  given  to  the  movement  in  favour  of 
inoculation,  which  began  to  have  a  certain  vogue  in 
fashionable  circles,  but  was  slow  in  spreading  beyond 
them.  It  was  indeed  difficult  to  find  a  French  doctor1 
willing  or  able  to  undertake  the  dreaded  operation, 
and,  according  to  the  Due  de  Lauzun,  the  fee  exacted 
was  twenty  or  thirty  pounds,  as  against  the  "  twelve- 
pence  a  head'*  required,  so  Horace  Walpole  tells  us, 
for  the  same  purpose  in  England. 

Yet  it  is  probable  that  neither  danger  nor  expense 
would  have  deterred  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  from 
this  doubtful  species  of  insurance  had  she  not  believed 
herself  already  safe.  In  early  life  she  had  had  a 
slight  attack  of  some  malady  supposed  by  those  in 
charge  of  her  to  be  genuine  small-pox,  and  in  the 
strength  of  this  tradition  she  had  gone  on  securely 
exposing  herself,  perhaps,  to  dangers  which  she  would 
otherwise  have  avoided,  till  a  rude  awakening  came 
upon  her.  For  some  days  she  was  dangerously  ill, 
her  sufferings  being  of  course  aggravated  by  the 
treatment  then  in  acceptation.  It  is  true  that  medical 
science  had  advanced  a  little  since  the  seventeenth 
century,  when  one  of  the  Port  Royal  chroniclers 
seriously  records,  as  an  example  of  heroic  devotion  in 
a  certain  devout  lady,2  that  she  did  not  entirely  desert 
her  fever-stricken  husband,  though  "the  physicians 
had  unanimously  forbidden  the  admission  of  any  air 
to  the  sick-room."  Tronchin,  the  Genevan  doctor 

1  Tronchin  and  Gatti,  the  two  best-known  advocates  of  the  practice, 
were  both  foreigners. 

2  The  Duchesse  de  Liancourt. 


212  A    STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

already  mentioned,  had,  much  to  his  honour,  de- 
nounced the  custom  obtaining  in  royal,  and  doubt- 
less also  in  less  distinguished,  circles  of  keeping 
bedroom  windows  hermetically  sealed  during  the 
colder  months  of  the  year,  and  we  have  seen  that 
d'Alembert  was  ordered  to  leave  his  ill-ventilated 
room.  We  may  therefore  hope  that  our  afflicted 
heroine's  windows  were  sometimes  opened — during 
the  day.  But  the  feverish  restless  nights  knew 
certainly  no  such  solace  as  a  breath  of  pure  air.  Both 
in  France  and  England,  for  the  sick  and  the  healthy 
alike,  to  sleep  with  open  windows  was  regarded  as  a 
sinful  tempting  of  Providence.  Even  Arthur  Young, 
that  hardy  votary  of  the  outdoor  life,  gravely  relates 
that  he  once  caught  cold  by  doing  so — on  a  summer 
night  too !  Anything  of  the  nature  of  a  cooling  drink 
would  probably  be  also  denied  as  deadly  poison,  and 
bleeding  was  the  recognised  method  for  reducing  a 
dangerous  temperature.  Yet  "spite  of  all  that  her 
friends  could  do,"  Julie  de  Lespinasse  recovered. 

She  recovered,  but  not  as  she  had  been  before  the 
dire  disease  attacked  her.  Her  eyesight,  never  strong, 
was  seriously  affected ;  her  health  much  weakened  ; 
worst  of  all,  every  trace  of  her  former  comeliness  was 
lost  for  ever.  In  the  eyes,  indeed,  of  the  faithful 
d'Alembert,  who  had  suffered  agonies  of  apprehension 
at  the  thought  of  losing  her,  this  last  change  had  no 
existence.  "  She  is  a  good  deal  marked  by  the  small- 
pox," he  writes  to  their  common  friend,  Hume,  "but 
not  the  least  in  the  world  disfigured  " — a  judgment 
touchingly  characteristic  of  a  sex  most  unjustly 
charged  with  inconstancy  and  an  excessive  regard  to 
external  appearances.  Which  of  us  has  not  beheld, 
with  emotions  half  of  admiration  and  half  of  amuse- 


THE   DESTROYER   OF   BEAUTY          213 

ment,  the  unalterable  and  quite  unfounded  belief  of 
many  a  man  in  the  personal  attractions  of  his  wife, 
nay,  in  rarer  instances,  even  of  his  sister  ?  And  which 
of  us  has  ever  seen  a  corresponding  blindness  in  the 
most  loyal  and  devoted  of  women  ? 

D'Alembert's  opinion  was  not  shared  by  the  world 
in  general,  nor  by  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  herself. 
She  was  fully  conscious  of  her  disfigurement,  as  is  shown 
by  her  infrequent  but  pathetic  allusions  to  the  subject. 
But  she  bore  it  with  wonderful  courage,  giving  way 
neither  to  morbid  self-consciousness  nor  to  jealousy 
of  more  fortunate  women.  She  had  indeed  no  reason 
for  either  emotion,  for  her  social  influence  was  not  in 
the  slightest  degree  affected  by  her  loss  of  good  looks. 
We  know,  from  the  testimony  of  Guibert  and  of  others 
who  had  never  known  her  in  her  days  of  comparative 
beauty,  that  her  charm  of  expression  and  manner  were 
more  than  sufficient  to  compensate  whatever  else  was 
wanting.  In  fact,  the  most  brilliant  time  of  her  life 
lay  all  in  front  of  her,  and  in  the  years  which  followed 
her  illness  she  was  to  enjoy  such  popularity  and 
admiration  as  fall  to  the  lot  of  few  women,  and  to 
receive  the  passionate  devotion  of  one  of  the  noblest 
men  then  living. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

A  WOMAN'S  KINGDOM 

r~PHE  winter  of  1755-6  was  well  advanced  before 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  had  sufficiently  re- 
covered to  resume  the  daily  routine  which  on  first 
becoming  her  own  mistress  she  had  inaugurated,  and 
which  during  the  remaining  ten  years  of  her  life  knew 
little  interruption  and,  save  in  unimportant  details,  no 
change.  From  one  point  of  view  it  appears,  for  a 
woman  of  her  ability,  an  unsatisfying  existence  enough, 
but  from  another  full  of  interest  and  possibility. 

Her  hour  of  rising  was  certainly  much  earlier  than 
when  she  lived  with  Madame  du  Deffand,  but,  in 
view  of  her  weak  health  and  acquired  habits,  we 
can  scarcely  suppose  that  she  was,  as  a  rule,  what 
her  countrymen  style  matinale.  The  morning  was 
generally  given  to  reading,  writing,  supervising  her 
domestic  affairs  and  conversing  with  such  familiar 
friends  as  d'Alembert  and  Condorcet.  Dinner,  the 
first  serious  meal  of  the  day  (her  morning  coffee  or 
chocolate  would  be  taken  in  bed),  was  served  to 
d'Alembert  at  half  past-one,  punctually,  and  probably 
Julie,  if  she  had  no  engagement  out  of  doors,  kept 
him  company  over  his  frugal  dyspeptic's  fare.  For 
dinner-parties  the  fashionable  hour  varied  from  one 
to  four  or  half-past,  the  last  named  being  that  adopted 
by  Madame  Necker,  and  regarded  by  the  older  gener- 
ation as  a  striking  proof  of  modern  degeneracy. 
The  fashion  of  literary  dinners,  which  was  first 

214 


A   WOMAN'S   KINGDOM 

popularised  by  Madame  Geoffrin,  and  strenuously 
opposed  by  her  rival,  Madame  du  Deffand,  had 
within  the  last  ten  years  spread  widely,  especially  in 
the  Encyclopedic  circle,  with  which  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse  may  henceforth  be  considered  as  identified. 
Best  known  amongst  weekly  fixtures  of  this  kind 
were  the  Mondays  and  Wednesdays  of  Madame 
Geoffrin,  the  Sundays  and  Thursdays  of  Holbach, 
the  Tuesdays  of  Helv^tius,  and  the  Fridays  of 
Madame  Necker.  We  do  not  hear  that  Julie  was 
in  the  habit  of  attending  the  dinner-parties  of  Hol- 
bach or  Helve"tius,  or  even  of  Madame  Necker,  with 
whom  she  was  on  friendly  terms  ;  but  she  was  almost 
invariably  present  at  those  of  Madame  Geoffrin, 
being,  save  the  hostess,  the  only  lady  admitted  to 
them. 

Of  the  two  weekly  dinners  in  the  Rue  St  Honore", 
one  was  kept  sacred,  more  or  less,  to  artists,  relieved 
by  a  sprinkling  of  amateurs.  The  other  was  reserved 
for  men  of  letters,  and  regularly  attended  by  a  band 
of  professional  diners-out,  whose  names  figure  promin- 
ently in  all  the  other  literary  sets  of  the  day :  Mar- 
montel,  Diderot,  Grimm,  Morellet,  Chastellux,  Galiani, 
St  Lambert,  Thomas,  and  many  more.  (D'Alembert 
can  scarcely  be  included  in  this  catalogue,  for,  though 
faithful  to  Madame  Geoffrin's  dinners,  he  seldom 
accepted  invitations  elsewhere.)  These  gentlemen, 
who  were  all  good  talkers,  formed,  as  it  were,  the 
nucleus  of  the  company,  but  there  was  also  a  variable 
element,  including  from  time  to  time  all  the  most 
interesting  and  distinguished  men  to  be  found  in 
Paris,  whether  natives  or  foreigners.  The  discussions 
inaugurated  at  these  reunions  often  lasted  for  several 
hours  ;  the  growing  preference  for  dinners  rather  than 


- 


216  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

suppers  being,  in  fact,  based  upon  the  presumption  that 
a  larger  portion  of  the  day  was  thus  rendered  avail- 
able for  conversation — a  sure  testimony,  as  Taine  has 
remarked,  to  the  idleness  and  frivolity  of  that  period. 
But  at  Madame  Geoffrin's  house  the  canvassers  of 
new  and  audacious  opinions  were  kept  within  straiter 
bounds  than  when  Holbach  or  Helvetius  played  the 
part  of  host.1  The  Encylopedists  were  favoured  by 
her  as  including,  on  the  whole,  the  best  intellect  of 
France  in  that  day  ;  but  she  had  never  laid  aside  her 
respect  for  order  and  morality  and  (less  outspokenly) 
for  religion,  and  was  wont  to  cut  short  any  argument 
which  seemed  to  trench  on  dangerous  ground  by  a 
rough  and  ready,  though  good-tempered,  exercise  of 
authority.  This  species  of  matriarchal  rigour  aroused 
much  amusement  and  little  bitterness  in  her  guests  ; 
yet  it  doubtless  served  to  throw  still  further  into 
relief  the  more  conciliatory  methods  of  Julie  de  Les- 
pinasse,  who,  as  the  only  other  woman  present,  and 
almost  as  the  adopted  daughter  of  the  house,  held  a 
position  at  these  gatherings  scarcely  inferior  in  im- 
portance to  that  of  Madame  Geoffrin  herself. 

"Her  presence,"  says  Marmontel,  "contributed 
inexpressibly  to  the  interest  of  our  dinner-parties. 
Whether  she  listened  or  whether  she  talked  (and  no 
one  could  talk  better)  she  was  continually  the  object 
of  attention.  She  was  no  coquette,  but  she  inspired 
us  all  with  the  blameless  desire  to  please  her ;  no 
prude,  but  in  conversing  with  her  no  one  could  venture 
to  pass  beyond  the  bounds  of  modesty  and  decorum." 

But  dinner,  even  when  consumed  in  company,  must 

1  On  which  occasions,  says  Carlyle,  with  much  aptness,  there  were  "  two 
main  elements  ...  in  the  conversation,  blasphemy  and  bawdry  .  .  .  with 
a  spicing  of  noble  sentiment." 


A   WOMAN'S   KINGDOM  217 

have  come  to  an  end  at  last,  and  then  the  afternoon 
work  began.  This,  for  a  woman  so  thoroughly  the 
fashion  as  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  included,  of 
course,  the  paying  of  many  formal  calls.  Custom, 
however,  did  not  demand  that  the  caller  should  actu- 
ally enter  a  house  save  on  the  "At  Home  Day"  of 
its  mistress.  In  all  other  cases  it  sufficed  to  write 
one's  name  in  the  porter's  book1 — the  eighteenth- 
century  equivalent  to  leaving  cards.  There  were, 
besides,  shows  of  various  kinds  to  be  visited,  picture 
galleries,  private  views,  and  those  dreary  exhibitions 
of  the  semi-scientific  order  in  which  Madame  de 
Genlis  absolutely  revelled.  When  feeling  in  an  un- 
usually adventurous  mood,  Julie  would  even  take  a 
walk,  either  at  the  Tuileries  or  Palais  Royal,  or  per- 
chance go  farther  afield,  to  the  Invalides  or  the 
Champs  Elys^es,  both  of  which  promenades  then 
bordered  closely  on  the  open  country.  The  shops, 
moreover,  would  surely  engage  some  share  of  her 
attention,  especially  that  famous  establishment  in  the 
Rue  St  Honor6  where  the  latest  style  of  dress  and 
coiffure  was  illustrated  by  a  doll  displayed  to  view 
in  the  window,  and  sent  in  duplicate  to  England, 
Germany,  Italy,  Spain,  and  even  to  the  seraglio  of 
the  Turkish  Sultan  ;  for  Parisian  taste  already  reigned 
supreme  throughout  the  civilised  world,  and  fashion- 
papers  had  as  yet  (before  1768)  no  existence.  The 
actual  business  of  shopping,  however,  was,  save  by 
persons,  like  Madame  Geoffrin,  of  unusual  activity, 
largely  transacted  at  the  house  of  the  purchaser. 

i  The  porter's  book  being  a  social  institution  of  such  importance,  it  is 
rather  curious  that  the  porter  at  Julie's  lodgings  should  have  been  unable 
to  write.  This  appears  from  his  inability  to  sign  the  receipt  for  payments 
made  him  on  her  death.  His  wife  supplied  his  place  on  this  and,  perhaps, 
on  less  solemn  occasions. 


2i8  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

Everyone  conversant  with  the  literature  of  that  period 
will  remember  the  Parisian  shopgirl,  with  her  band- 
box full  of  chiffons  "on  appro.,"  her  bright  and  charm- 
ing manner,  her  dainty  cap  and  short  neat  skirt, 
making  her  morning  round  among  customers  not 
exclusively  of  her  own  sex.  A  fascinating  figure  she 
is,  and  it  is  tragic  to  observe  that  in  public  opinion 
her  calling  was  but  one  step  removed  (if  removed  at 
all)  from  another  not  generally  named.  A  linen- 
draper's  or  milliner's  shop  where  the  employees  were 
of  good  character  was  rare  indeed  in  Paris,  and  the 
owners  of  such  were  wont  to  take  a  truly  national 
pride  in  the  strictness  of  the  surveillance  by  which 
alone  so  desirable  a  result  could  be  obtained.  In  one 
establishment  of  this  kind,  several  unhappy  girls  lost 
their  lives  in  a  fire,  owing  to  the  excessive  solicitude 
of  their  mistress,  who,  being  obliged  to  go  out,  had 
left  them  locked  up  as  the  only  means  of  keeping 
them  from  mischief. 

By  five  o'clock,  Julie  was  back  in  her  own  rooms, 
and  then  followed  the  really  important  part  of  the  day — 
the  four  hours  during  which  she  received.  Only  the 
counter-attractions  of  the  Comedie  Fran9aise  or  the 
Opera  could  prevail  on  her  to  abandon  this,  her  essential 
duty  to  society;  and  in  such  cases  of  desertion,  which, 
despite  Grimm's  sweeping  assertion  to  the  contrary, 
occurred  with  tolerable  frequency,  the  fashionable 
world  was  duly  forewarned  of  her  absence. 

To  attempt  a  detailed  enumeration  of  the  guests 
who  at  one  time  or  other  frequented  the  salon  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  is  plainly  impossible, 
since  any  such  catalogue  would  include  almost  all  the 
distinguished  persons,  of  every  calling  and  nationality, 
to  be  found  in  Paris  between  the  years  1764  and  1776. 


A   WOMAN'S   KINGDOM  219 

<^-_  -V 

Fine  ladies,  soldiers,  statesmen,  divines,  scholars, 
litterateurs — every  class  was  there  represented.  Here 
Turgot,  the  ineffectual  angel  of  social  reform,  dis- 
cussed his  philanthropic  schemes,  and  there,  a  little 
later,  Condorcet,  "  the  philosophic  marquis,"  brought 
his  ungainly  personality  and  his  wildly  revolutionary 
ideas.  There  the  Italian  ambassador  Galiani,  "the 
pretty  dwarf,"  gesticulated  and  held  forth  at  will,  now 
relating  his  long  but  never  tedious  stories,  now  plead- 
ing in  vivacious  and  not  too  reverent  fashion  for  the 
existence  of  a  God,  and  anon,  in  his  moments  of  re- 
action, sitting  sad  and  silent  in  a  retired  corner.  There 
David  Hume,  with  his  broad  kind  face  and  his 
hesitating  Scots  tongue,  sought  counsel  and  sym- 
pathy from  "the  most  sensible  woman  in  Paris." 
There  the  fascinating  Comtesse  de  Boufflers,  tearing 
herself  for  a  while  from  the  semi-royal  circle  where, 
as  mistress  of  the  Prince  de  Conti,  she  reigned 
supreme,  poured  forth  her  sparkling  paradoxes. 
There  the  warm-hearted  Duchesse  de  Chatillon,  who 
worshipped  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  hung  eagerly  on 
every  word  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  her  idol.  There 
might  be  seen  that  stately  Spaniard  Aranda,  the  well- 
known  Liberal  minister,  and  there,  for  a  brief  space, 
the  enigmatic  figure  of  Lord  Shelburne. 

The  general  tone  of  the  company  was  certainly 
more  or  less  Encyclopedic,  but  no  strict  line  of  de- 
marcation was  drawn.  All  contemporaries  are  agreed 
that  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  this  particular 
salon  was  its  catholicity,  and  that  this  again  was 
entirely  due  to  the  unique  personality  of  the  hostess, 
which  enabled  her  to  attract  and  combine  into  a 
homogeneous  whole  the  most  diverse  and  incongruous 
elements. 


220 

"  Except  for  some  friends  of  d'Alembert,"  says 
Marmontel,  "her  circle  was  formed  of  persons  who 
had  no  previous  connection  with  each  other  .  .  .  but 
under  her  influence  they  harmonised  like  the  cords 
of  an  instrument  played  by  a  master  hand.  .  .  .  She 
seemed  to  know  what  sound  each  cord  would  give 
when  she  touched  it ;  her  insight,  that  is,  into  our 
minds  and  characters  was  such,  that  she  could  draw 
each  of  us  into  discourse  writh  a  single  word.  No- 
where was  the  conversation  more  animated,  more 
brilliant,  or  better  organised.  .  .  .  And  observe  that 
the  minds  which  she  thus  swayed  at  her  pleasure  were 
neither  weak  nor  light.  The  Condillacs  and  Turgots 
were  of  the  number  ;  d'Alembert  in  her  hands  was  but 
a  simple  and  docile  child.  No  ordinary  woman  could 
have  started  discussions  among  men  of  this  type  and 
taken  part  in  them,  as  she  did,  with  a  closeness  of 
reasoning  equal  to  theirs,  and  sometimes  with  an 
eloquence  peculiar  to  herself.  No  ordinary  woman 
could  have  varied  the  conversation  at  her  will,  intro- 
ducing each  new  topic  with  the  ease  of  a  fair}-  waving 
her  magic  wand." 

"  Politics,  religion,  philosophy,  story-telling,  gossip, 
nothing,"  says  Grimm,  "was  excluded  from  her  dis- 
cussions, and  owing  to  her  talents,  and  without  ap- 
parent effort  on  her  part,  the  most  trivial  anecdote 
obtained  a  hearing.  The  latest  intelligence,  of  every 
sort,  was  always  to  be  heard  in  her  drawing-room. 
.  .  .  She  possessed  in  the  most  eminent  degree  the 
difficult  and  precious  art  of  drawing  out  the  best 
intelligence  of  others.  .  .  .  She  formed  a  con- 
necting link  for  minds  the  most  dissimilar,  and 
even  the  most  antagonistic.  There  was  no  sub- 
ject whatever  which  she  could  not  discuss,  with 


A   WOMAN'S   KINGDOM  221 

apparent  pleasure  to  herself,  and  real  pleasure  to 
others." 

"No  one,"  says  La  Harpe,  "could  better  do  the 
honours  of  her  house.  Everyone  found  his  own  place 
there,  and  always  to  his  own  satisfaction.  She  had 
great  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  that  most  attrac- 
tive kind  of  politeness  which  seems  to  proceed  from 
a  personal  interest  in  each  individual." 

"The  general  conversation,"  says  Grimm  again, 
"never  languished.  There  was  no  hard  and  fast  rule 

o 

on  this  point,  and  you  might  talk  apart  to  your  neigh- 
bour now  and  then,  as  opportunity  arose.  But  the 
genius  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  pervaded  the 
whole  assembly,  and  the  charm  of  some  invisible 
power  seemed  perpetually  to  combine  all  individual 
interests  into  the  common  whole  which  had  its  centre 
in  her." 

It  is  indeed  an  alluring  picture  which  these  ex- 
tracts present  to  us,  and  one  which  may  well  provoke 
a  sigh  over  the  lost  art  of  general  conversation.  Our 
modern  system  is  strictly  one  of  duologues,  and  under 
very  favourable  conditions — when  the  right  people, 
for  example,  go  down  to  dinner  together — this  has 
its  own  advantages.  But  there  is  little  satisfaction  in 
exchanging  a  few  hurried  and  futile  commonplaces 
with  a  constant  succession  of  interlocutors,  amid  a 
deafening  babble  of  conflicting  voices ;  and  such  a 
"  conversational "  programme  is,  unhappily,  but  too 
common  nowadays. 

General  conversation,  however,  was  not  always  the 
order  of  the  day.  The  proceedings  were  sometimes 
varied  by  another  species  of  amusement  equally  char- 
acteristic of  the  eighteenth  century,  but  not  equally 
calculated  to  awaken  the  regretful  enthusiasm  of  a 


222  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

later  generation.  This  was  the  terrible  institution 
of  "readings."  It  is  our  wont  in  these  days  to  be- 
wail the  facility  wherewith  our  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances rush  into  print,  but  such  jeremiads  betray  a 
lamentable  ingratitude  for  worse  afflictions  thus  es- 
caped. The  claims  of  friendship  can  now,  in  each 
case,  be  amply  satisfied  by  a  statement  that  we  intend 
to  buy  the  special  work  in  question,  and  to  read  it 
when  sterner  occupations  shall  allow  us  leisure  for 
so  pleasing  an  employment.  Sometimes  it  is  even 
sufficient  to  say  that  we  are  trying  hard  to  get  it  from 
the  library,  but,  owing  to  the  great  demand  for  it, 
have  not  hitherto  succeeded.  In  the  days  when 
salons  flourished  no  such  cowardly  subterfuge  was 
possible.  The  authors  took  good  care  of  that.  The 
correct  mode  of  procedure  was  for  every  man  or 
woman  who  had  written  a  play,  a  poem,  a  story,  or 
an  essay,  of  any  sort  or  size,  to  volunteer  a  reading 
thereof  at  the  house  of  some  acquaintance  supposed 
to  be  influential  in  the  literary  world.  To  an  offer 
of  this  kind  only  one  sort  of  response  was  admissible  : 
a  day  must  be  fixed  for  the  lecture,  an  audience  as 
numerous  as  possible  collected,  the  precious  pro- 
duction must  be  listened  to  from  beginning  to  end 
with  at  least  an  appearance  of  attention,  and,  last  not 
least,  the  author  must  be  complimented.  If,  on  the 
strength  of  the  encouragement  thus  received,  he 
afterwards  decided  to  publish,  it  was  the  bounden 
duty  of  his  friends  to  find  a  sale  for  his  work,  each 
undertaking  to  dispose  of  a  certain  number  of  copies. 
Even  Rousseau,  who,  as  the  event  proved,  stood  in 
need  of  no  patron,  and  who,  like  a  well-known 
modern  novelist,  refused  on  principle  to  send  in  his 
books  for  review  to  the  literary  journals  of  the  day, 


A   WOMAN'S   KINGDOM  223 

did  not  disdain  to  enlist  the  services  of  Madame  de 
Luxembourg,  and  other  persons  of  light  and  leading, 
on  behalf  of  "  La  Nouvelle  Heloise." 

From  the  worst  terrors  of  this  system  Julie  de 
Lespinasse  was  comparatively  secure,  since  the  re- 
putation of  her  salon  stood  so  high  in  literary  circles 
that  only  writers  with  something  to  recommend  them 
could  aspire  to  the  advertisement  conferred  by  appear- 
ing there.  Thus,  Marmontel  gave  her  the  first  read- 
ing of  a  comic  opera  ;  La  Harpe  of  a  tragedy,  and 
Bernardin  de  Saint  Pierre  of  his  "Voyage  a  1'Isle  de 
France,"  on  which  last  occasion  *  Julie  for  once  allowed 
her  sense  of  humour  to  get  the  better  of  her  habitual 
politeness,  thereby  earning  for  herself  the  author's  un- 
dying hatred.  The  habitues  of  the  Rue  Bellechasse 
would  never  have  condescended  to  such  a  programme 
as  that  so  amusingly  described  by  Madame  Roland 
in  her  account  of  a  gathering  of  this  kind,  where  a 
number  of  obscure  ladies  and  gentlemen  recited  their 
own  verses  in  turn  and  then  everybody  complimented 
everybody  else  !  It  is  to  be  feared,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  they  never  listened  to  any  lecture  so  exhilarating 
as  that  which  once  took  place  at  Holbach's  Sunday 
circle  when  Petit,  the  indomitable  Norman  vicar,  read 
aloud  his  epic  poem,  "  David  and  Bathsheba,"  and 
stoutly  maintained,  against  all  criticising,  that  "  tris- 
tesse"*  rhymes  with  "  angotsse,"  3  and  that  there  is  a 
distinct  difference  of  meaning  between  "occzs"*  and 


Julie's  salon  closed  theoretically  at  nine  o'clock,  but 

1  Bernardin,  it  is  said,  was  boasting  of  the  wonderful  self-restraint  which 
he  had  exercised  in  not  knocking  down  an  insulting  publisher  (cf.  Dr 
Johnson),  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  laughingly  exclaimed:    "What 
truly  Roman  virtue." 

2  Sadness.  3  Anguish.  4  Slain.  c  Killed. 


224  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

unless  she  herself  had,  as  often  happened,  an  engage- 
ment elsewhere  for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  her  guests, 
or  some  of  them,  would  remain  as  late  as  ten.  It  has 
already  been  observed  that  no  refreshments  were  pro- 
vided, not  even  the  traditional  cup  of  tea  or  coffee 
which  lends  a  pleasant  stimulus  to  the  humblest  social 
entertainments  in  this  country.  So  Spartan  an  in- 
difference to  the  more  material  aspects  of  hospitality 
would  not  greatly  astonish  us  in  a  French  hostess  at 
the  present  time,  but  in  those  days  of  luxurious  dinner 
and  supper  parties  it  was  an  exceedingly  rare  pheno- 
menon, and  the  fact  that  it  in  no  way  interfered  with 
the  popularity  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  is  one 
more  proof  of  her  transcendent  social  charm. 

At  nine  o'clock,  Julie,  as  has  been  said,  often,  like 
most  of  her  guests,  went  out  to  finish  the  evening  else- 
where. Holding  so  prominent  a  position  in  society 
she  was  sure  to  be  overwhelmed  with  invitations  to 
supper  and  to  the  various  evening  entertainments  in 
vogue — teas  a  I Anglaise,  cafes  (in  private  houses), 
charade  parties,  and  so  on — and  it  was  probably  sel- 
dom before  the  small  hours  of  the  morning  that  she 
returned  home  to  bed,  but  unfortunately  not  always 
to  sleep,  after  the  arduous  exertions  of  the  day. 


i— i    ..    a 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

FRIENDS    IN    COUNCIL 

ENEATH  the  brilliant  stream  of  social  activities 
described  in  the  last  chapter  there  flowed  an 
undercurrent  of  quiet  domestic  life,  shared  only  with  a 
few  chosen  friends,  and  in  this  more  intimate  phase  of 
Julie's  existence  we  see  the  best  side  of  her  character, 
and  also  of  the  society  in  which  she  lived.  She  was 
popular,  as  has  been  said,  with  her  own  sex,  yet,  if  we 
except  Madame  Geoffrin,  for  whom  she  had  an  almost 
filial  affection,  and  Madame  de  Chatillon,  whose  ex- 
uberant devotion  at  first  rather  bored  her,  but  in  the 
end  touched  her  heart,  we  find  that  her  closest  friend- 
ships (I  do  not  now  speak  of  any  warmer  feeling) 
were  all  with  men.  The  peculiar  sweetness  of  such 
intimacies,  more  intellectual  than  is  usual  between 
woman  and  woman,  more  tender  than  is  possible  be- 
tween man  and  man,  was  well  understood  at  that  day, 
Amongst  the  unmarried,  at  least,  they  are  now  scarcely 
attainable,  and  when  they  do  occur,  the  world,  with 
no  unkind  intention,  encourages  them  by  giving  out 
that  the  persons  concerned  are  engaged. 

The  principal  friends  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse 
were  three — Suard,  Turgot,  and  Condorcet.  The 
first-named,  a  man  of  fascinating  personality  but  not 
wholly  dependable  character,  seems  to  have  been 
much  in  her  confidence,  and  to  have  felt  towards  her 
an  admiring  and  sympathetic  affection,  without  preju- 
dice, however,  to  his  devotion  for  the  charming  girl 
p  225 


226  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

whom  he  had  married  for  love  ;  while  Madame  Suard, 
on  her  part,  always  entertained  a  feeling  of  profound 
gratitude  to  Julie  for  the  punctuality  with  which,  on 
the  stroke  of  nine,  she  nightly  drove  him  from  her 
door  lest  the  wife  at  home  should  feel  neglected. 
Turgot,  as  will  appear  more  at  large  hereafter,  made 
her  the  confidante  of  his  projects  for  reform,  and  on 
some  minor  points  connected  with  them  did  not  dis- 
dain to  follow  her  advice.  Condorcet  was  the  most 
intimate  of  the  three.  Unlike  Suard,  he  was,  till  long 
after  Julie's  death,  a  bachelor.  Unlike  Turgot,  he 
was  not  obliged  to  spend  a  large  part  of  the  year 
away  from  Paris.  By  community  of  pursuits,  more- 
over (they  were  both  mathematicians),  he  was  more 
closely  drawn  to  Julie's  housemate,  d'Alembert,  than 
was  the  case  with  either  of  the  two  preceding.  The 
triangular  friendship  which  united  the  two  distin- 
guished scientists  and  the  fascinating  "  Muse  of  the 
Encyclopedia  " l  is  presented  to  us  under  a  peculiarly 
attractive  aspect,  and  gives  a  pleasing  impression  of 
the  period  in  which  such  relations  were  possible. 

The  Marquis  de  Condorcet  was,  as  his  title  indicates, 
a  nobleman  born,  but,  much  to  the  scandal  of  his 
illustrious  relatives,  he  had  entirely  refused  to  adopt 
the  aristocratic  profession  of  arms.  Like  d'Alembert, 
he  had  early  heard  the  call  of  science,  and  had  left  all 
to  follow  it.  At  the  age  of  twenty-two  he  achieved 
distinction  by  an  essay  on  that  inviting  subject,  the 
Integral  Calculus,  and  five  years  later  (in  1770)  he 
was  elected  an  associate  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences. 
Introduced  by  d'Alembert  into  the  salon  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse,  he  soon  penetrated  into  the 
inner  circle  of  her  familiars.  It  was  his  boast  that  he 

1  Madame  du  Deffand's  nickname  for  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse. 


FRIENDS   IN   COUNCIL  227 

shared  with  d'Alembert  the  honour  of  acting  as  her 
secretary,  for  Julie's  weakened  eyes  often  refused 
service,  and  these  two  hard-working  men  made  it 
their  pride  and  pleasure  to  write  letters  to  her 
dictation. 

A  whole  train  of  interesting  reflections  is  suggested 
by  this  circumstance.  Here  we  have  a  woman  of  alto- 
gether unusual  intellectual  powers,  who  yet  has  left  be- 
hind her  no  work  of  any  account  save  a  series  of  letters, 
which  were  so  far  from  being  intended  for  the  world 
that  she  herself  was  most  anxious  entirely  to  suppress 
them.  She  is  surrounded  by  men  who  all  virtually 
acknowledge  her  as  their  superior,  yet  all  of  these 
men  have  done  work  which,  to  some  sort  of  extent, 
has  lived.  The  literary  and  journalistic  labours  of 
Suard,  Marmontel,  Grimm,  Morellet,  Diderot  are  still 
of  exceeding  utility  to  all  who  are  interested  in  a  most 
momentous  period  ;  d'Alembert  and  Condorcet  have 
added  their  quota  to  the  accumulated  mass  of  scientific 
achievement,  and  while  there  is  any  virtue  or  any 
praise  the  name  of  Turgot  will  be  remembered  in 
connection  with  his  noble  efforts  for  social  reform. 
All  these  men,  while  working  hard  (though  not  so 
hard  as  men  work  nowadays)  in  their  respective  lines, 
find  time  to  take  part  in  the  social  life  which  entirely 
absorbs  the  energies  of  the  woman,  and  in  some  cases, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  do  a  share  of  her  work  in  addition 
to  their  own.  Is  it  not  possible  that  we  have  in  this 
situation  the  true  key  to  the  world-wide  and  age-long 
supremacy  of  the  dominant  male  ?  The  masculine 
breadth  of  view,  the  masculine  sense  of  humour,  the 
masculine  command  of  logic,  the  masculine  absence 
of  jealousy  are  none  of  them  quite  so  obvious  as  they 
perhaps  should  be  to  the  perceptions  of  an  inferior 


228  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

and  irreverently  critical  sex  ;  but  the  masculine  faculty 
for  getting,  tant  bien  que  mal,  through  work  is  equally 
undeniable  and  overpowering. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  conceded  that  in 
Julie's  peculiar  sphere — the  salon — her  male  friends 
stood,  in  comparison  with  her,  on  the  footing  merely 
of  amateurs.  D'Alembert,  indeed,  seems  always  to 
have  been  present  at  her  receptions  and  to  have  played 
host  to  her  hostess,  but  he  would  himself  have  been 
the  first  to  admit  that  his  role  was  entirely  subsidiary 
to  hers,  and  that,  though  he  had  had  a  good  deal  to 
do  in  the  formation  of  their  circle,  it  was  her  influence 
which  held  it  together.  In  literary  matters,  however, 
he  asserted  his  superiority,  as  may  be  gathered  from 
his  numerous  corrections  to  her  infrequent  essays  in 
this  line — corrections  which  do  not  always  strike  us 
as  improvements.  Chief  amongst  these  opuscula1  of 
Julie's  we  may  notice  two  "additional  chapters"  to 
the  "Sentimental  Journey"  in  which  Sterne's  man- 
nerisms are  imitated  with  really  considerable  aptness, 
and  which,  I  much  fear,  were  duly  read  aloud  to  an 
admiring  audience  either  in  Madame  Geoffrin's  salon 
or  in  that  of  the  author  herself. 

There  were  ten  years  between  Condorcet  and  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse,  and  twenty-five  between  him 
and  d'Alembert,  but  the  keenness  and  versatility  of 
his  mental  powers  annihilated,  so  far  as  the  things 
of  the  intellect  were  concerned,  all  distinctions  of 
age.  In  politics  and  religion  his  views  harmonised, 
of  course,  with  theirs,  save  that  he  was  in  both  in- 
clined, as  his  subsequent  career  demonstrates,  to  go 
further  than  either  of  his  friends.  In  character  he 

1  These  are  given  at  the  end  of  her  letters  to  Guibert,  edited  by 
M.  Eugene  Asse. 


FRIENDS   IN   COUNCIL  229 

was,  to  all  appearance,  kind  and  benevolent,  almost 
to  a  fault.  The  fiery  nature  of  the  future  Girondist 
leader  lay  as  yet  concealed  under  an  outward  sem- 
blance of  calm  and  rather  cold  philanthropy — "like 
a  volcano,"  says  d'Alembert,  "covered  with  snow." 
Julie  de  Lespinasse  alone  seems  to  have  divined 
something  of  the  alarming  possibilities  involved  in 
this  enigmatical  personality. 

"  It  is  too  good  of  you,  kind  Condorcet,"  she 
writes,  on  one  occasion,  "  to  live  on  familiar  terms 
with  us.  You  differ  so  widely  from  all  the  other 
people  whom  I  have  respected  and  admired  that 
I  am  at  times  tempted  to  believe  in  some  mixture 
of  the  supernatural  or  demoniacal  in  your  char- 
acter. I  repeat,  demoniacal,  for  if  kind  Condorcet 
chose,  he  could  be  as  vindictive  as  Pascal  is  in  the 
Provincials." 

The  external  coldness  of  the  philosophic  Marquis  in 
no  wise  guaranteed  him  against  the  assaults  of  the 
tender  passion.  Though  not  an  ill-living  man  he  seems, 
up  to  the  date  of  his  marriage — a  perfectly  successful 
one — in  1787,  to  have  been  always  in  love  with  some 
lady  or  other,  and  never  to  have  met  with  any  appreci- 
ation from  the  object  of  his  affection.  The  first  of  these 
flames  of  whom  we  have  any  record  was  the  charm- 
ing Mademoiselle  Pancoucke,  the  sister  of  the  famous 
bookseller,  and  afterwards  the  wife  of  Suard.  When, 
long  after,  in  the  days  of  the  Terror,  Condorcet,  flying 
for  life,  sought  refuge  under  Suard's  roof,  and  was,  to 
all  intents  and  purposes,  driven  forth  by  the  master  of 
the  house  to  meet  his  fate,  the  world  remembered  this 
early  rivalry,  and  saw  in  Suard's  action  the  settlement 
of  an  old  but  unforgotten  grievance.  Next,  if  we  are 
to  believe  the  bantering  references  of  d'Alembert  and 


230  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

Julie,  we  find  Condorcet  in  the  toils  of  Mademoiselle 
d'Usse — sister  to  the  Marquis  d'Usse  mentioned  in 
an  earlier  chapter — a  lady  of  mature  years,  who  in  her 
turn  had  lost  her  heart  to  Condorcet's  almost  septua- 
genarian uncle,  the  venerable  Bishop  of  Lisieux.  To 
the  obdurate  Mademoiselle  d'Usse  succeeded  Madame 
de  Meulan,  a  young  married  lady  of  considerable 
personal  attractions,  for  whom  the  susceptible  Mar- 
quis long  entertained  a  profound  though  platonic 
admiration.  He  paid  his  court  by  the  somewhat 
original  method  of  translating  Seneca  for  the  lady's 
benefit,  but  Madame  de  Meulan  remained  unmoved 
by  this  exhibition  of  sentiment,  and  heartlessly  re- 
jected Condorcet's  modest  entreaty  that  she  would 
permit  herself  to  be  adored  without  any  hope  of 
return.  Then  ensued  a  long  interlude  during  which 
the  slighted  one's  lovelorn  and  lackadaisical  demean- 
our laid  him  open  to  the  good-humoured  gibes,  and 
at  times  to  the  serious  remonstrances,  of  his  two 
older  friends,  neither  of  whom,  we  may  observe,  was 
at  all  in  a  position  favourable  to  stone-throwing.  For 
d'Alembert  was  devoting  his  life  to  a  woman  who 
never  loved  him  as  he  loved  her,  and  Julie  was 
hereafter  to  break  her  heart  for  a  man  in  every 
way  unworthy. 

The  explanation  of  Condorcet's  persistent  ill-success 
with  the  opposite  sex  is  to  be  found,  no  doubt,  in  his 
external  deficiencies.  His  fine  face  was  singularly 
lacking  in  animation,  his  bearing  awkward,  and  his 
manners,  though  gentle  and  courteous,  left  much  to 
be  desired.  His  disregard  for  the  conventionalities, 
indeed,  was  in  some  respects  carried  to  an  extent 
which,  at  the  present  day,  we  find  difficulty  in 
realising,  as  will  appear  in  the  extracts  given  below, 


LE   MARQUIS   DE  CONDORCET 

SCHOOL   OF   GREUZE.      IN   THE   MUSEE   DE   VERSAILLES 


FRIENDS   IN    COUNCIL  231 

\^- 

from  the  three-cornered  correspondence  maintained 
by  the  friends.  Under  the  surface  tone  of  gay  banter 
it  is  easy  to  detect  a  note  of  genuine  and  affectionate 
solicitude. 

"My  zeal  for  your  education"  (Condorcet  is  away 
in  the  country  and  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse 
is  dictating  to  d'Alembert),  "continues  even  in  your 
absence.  Above  all,  I  advise  you  not  to  eat  your 
lips  or  your  nails.  Nothing  is  more  indigestible. 
I  have  heard  a  great  doctor  say  so.  ...  Here  is 
another  hint  for  your  instruction.  It  is  the  sugges- 
tion of  my  secretary  [d'Alembert],  who,  as  you  know,  is 
a  great  authority  on  such  subjects,  and  has  been 
specially  entrusted  by  Mademoiselle  d'Uss£  with  the 
task  of  forming  your  manners.  Don't  bend  your 
body  in  two  every  time  you  speak,  like  a  priest  saying 
his  confiteor  at  the  altar.  I  f  you  persist  in  it,  you  will 
have  to  say  your  mea  culpd  for  it  some  day.  You 
learned  that  bad  habit  from  Mademoiselle  d'Usse. 
She  always  makes  you  bend  close  over  her  so  that  your 
conversation  may  be  more  confidential.  ...  I  also 
recommend  some  attention  to  your  ears,  which  are 
always  in  need  of  washing  (sic !)....!  send  you 
no  news.  In  the  first  place,  I  know  none.  In  the 
second,  I  don't  believe  you  care  for  it.  In  the  third, 
it  is  a  great  bore,  and,  at  the  worst,  you  are  sure  to 
hear  everything  some  time,  if  you  only  wait  long 
enough.  In  the  fourth  place,  because  my  secretary 
is  in  a  hurry  to  get  off  to  a  dinner  with  some  of  his 
cronies,  for  everybody  has  cronies  of  his  own." 

"July  1769. 

'To  begin  with,  monsieur,  you  are  wrong  in  not 
dating  your  letters.     This  is  very  important  advice. 


232  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

.  .  .  You  are  wrong  besides  in  working  at  geometry 
like  a  madman,  bolting  your  supper  like  an  ogre,  and 
sleeping  as  little  as  a  hare.  You  may  be  quite  sure  it 
is  not  my  secretary  who  says  this.  He  would  never 
have  written  that  line  of  Voltaire's  about  time  : 

" '  "Pis  wasted,  save  when  spent  on  Love  alone  ! ' 
He  would  have  put — 

"  '  Tis  wasted  save  when  spent  on  Algebra  I '  " 

"PARIS,  Monday,  August  >jth,  1769. 

Mean  time  thirty-five  minutes  and  four 

seconds  past  nine  A.M. 

"  There,  monsieur,  is  something  like  a  date  !  You 
can't  cavil  at  that.  My  secretary  never  knows  what 
he  is  saying  or  doing  (this  is  utter  nonsense — note 
by  the  secretary),  so  you  must  not  be  surprised  that 
he  has  mistaken  July  for  August.  (The  secretary 
replies  that  he  was  apparently  told  to  write  August, 
and  not  July,  and  that  he  writes  what  he  is  told.)  .  .  . 

"And  so  you  differ  from  Voltaire,  monsieur,  and 
think  time  wasted,  except  on  geometry  ?  .  .  . 

"  (Quite  right,  my  dear  colleague.  Never  mind  the 
women  and  Voltaire.)" 

"  October  i$th,  1771. 

"  My  cross-grained  secretary  is  so  condescending 
as  to  write  to  my  kind  Condorcet,  There  are  not 
many  people  for  whom  he  will  give  himself  the 
trouble.  Like  me,  he  is  anxious  and  distressed  about 
your  bad  health.  You  must  let  us  know  how  you 
are,  and  you  must  tell  the  truth  about  it,  and  not 
try  to  spare  our  feelings.  Is  your  mind  calmer?  Is 
your  head  more  steady?  Has  absence  (from  the 
unappreciative  Madame  de  Meulan)  made  you  worse  ? 


FRIENDS   IN   COUNCIL  233 

Are  you  resolved  to  live  upon  sorrow  ?  (and  folly ! — 
note  by  the  secretary).  Would  it  not  be  better  to  make 
an  effort  to  get  well  ?  " 

In  a  letter  written  about  the  same  time,  with  her  own 
hand  and  without  the  co-operation  of  d'Alembert,  Julie 
takes  her  friend  still  more  roundly  to  task. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  your  own  fault  if  you  are 
ill.  If  you  had  a  little  courage,  your  mind  and  body 
would  be  in  a  better  condition.  You  are  just  as  inex- 
perienced now  as  when  you  left  school,  yet  reflection 
ought  to  supply  the  place  of  experience.  .  .  .  Any- 
thing is  better  than  the  way  you  have  been  behaving 
for  the  last  two  months.  Be  honest  with  yourself,  tell 
yourself  that  you  must  get  over  it.  ...  Do  not  wear 
out  your  feelings  and  ruin  your  health  to  no  purpose. 
Exert  a  little  fortitude,  determine  to  be  tranquil,  if  you 
cannot  be  happy.  All  your  friends  are  deeply  grieved  at 
the  state  into  which  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  fall." 

Here,  in  conclusion,  is  a  later  extract  of  more  cheer- 
ful character,  dictated,  as  the  more  cheerful  letters 
always  are,  for  when  writing  direct  to  Condorcet 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  allowed  herself  to  dwell 
upon  her  own  troubles  to  an  extent  which  considera- 
tion for  d'Alembert  did  not  otherwise  permit. 

June  25,  1774. 

"  I  regret  you  every  day,  monsieur,  and  expect  your 
return  with  impatience.  There  are  days  when  I  really 
cannot  get  on  without  you.  For  example,  M.  de  la 
Harpe  read  aloud  his  Barmecides1  the  other  day.  There 
are  very  fine  lines  in  it,  and,  altogether,  I  liked  it  very 
much,  and  I  said,  '  If  M.  de  Condorcet  were  here,  I 

1  A  tragedy  by  La  Harpe. 


234  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

should  have  this  pleasure  over  again  to-morrow.  He 
would  have  remembered  all  the  best  parts.'  The 
day  before  yesterday  he  [La  Harpe]  read  us  some 
charming  stanzas,  the  regrets  of  a  forsaken  lover. 
Well,  monsieur,  my  secretary  and  I  do  not  remember 
one  word  of  them  !  We  only  know  that  we  liked 
them.  .  .  .  Farewell,  monsieur ;  the  secretary  sends 
his  kind  regards,  and  says  he  has  had  enough  of  this. 
The  phrase,  you  will  observe,  is  characteristic  of  him, 
and  distinguished  by  his  peculiar  grace  and  charm  of 
manner." 

A  talent  for  friendship  does  not  always  imply  an 
equal  capacity  for  family  affection,  yet  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  possessed  the  second  no  less  than  the 
first  of  these  qualities  is  plainly  shown  by  her  attitude 
towards  Abel  de  Vichy,  the  only  one  of  her  delightful 
kindred  who  can  be  said  to  have  had,  so  far  as  she 
was  concerned,  either  a  heart  or  a  conscience.  For 
that  other  once-beloved  brother,  Camille  d'Albon,  she 
retained  no  feeling  but  one  of  mistrust  and  dislike. 
Every  lingering  vestige  of  tenderness  for  him  had 
perished  in  that  miserable  interview  long  ago  at  the 
grate  of  the  Lyon  convent.  All  her  references  to  him 
and  his  family  breathe  a  spirit  of  cold  and  bitter  hos- 
tility most  unusual  with  her. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  she  writes  to  Abel,  "that  you 
scarcely  see  anything  of  your  d'Albon  relations.  Is  it 
because  you  don't  care  about  them  ?  I  should  think 
that  very  natural." 

And  again  : 

"  I  could  expect  nothing  else  but  ill-usage  all  my  life 
from  everyone  who  bears  the  name  of  d'Albon  or  has 
any  connection  with  it." 


FRIENDS   IN   COUNCIL  235 

Even  her  love  for  children,  a  strong  feeling  with 
her,  seems  almost  in  abeyance  with  regard  to  Camille's 
son  and  heir.  She  praises  the  boy's  beauty  indeed, 
but  contemplates  without  emotion  the  probability  of 
his  death  from  lung  disease. 

With  the  de  Vichys  she  was,  despite  the  scenes 
which  Champrond,  in  days  gone  by,  had  witnessed, 
on  a  very  different  footing.  Her  letters  to  Abel  are 
full  of  solicitude  for  his  mother's  health  and  well-being. 
Even  her  terrible  father  receives  tokens  of  affectionate 
remembrance.  When  Gaspard  and  Diane  come  to  stay 
at  Paris  she  sees  them  every  day,  and  together  they 
discuss  Abel's  resplendent  virtues  and  Abel's  atrocious 
handwriting,  almost  after  the  fashion  of  an  orthodox 
family  conclave.  For  her  second  pupil,  Abel's  scape- 
grace younger  brother,  Julie  keeps  a  corner  in  her 
heart ;  she  pleads  for  him  with  his  righteously  in- 
dignant relatives,  and  speaks  with  feeling  of  his  death. 
But  her  full  affection  was  given  to  Abel  himself,  and 
seems  to  have  been  whole-heartedly  returned.  M.  de 
Segur  thinks  that  an  increase  in  his  tenderness  for 
her  can  be  traced  from  the  day  when  he  discovered 
the  true  nature  of  his  relationship  to  her,  as  recorded 
in  his  diary  of  23rd  July  1769:  "I  have  had  a  long 
conversation  with  my  mother  on  the  subject  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse.  It  is  a  horrible  story ! " 
His  good  heart  prompted  him  by  brotherly  kindness 
to  make  what  amends  he  could  for  the  sins  of  his 
father  and  mother,  and  his  resolution  was  not  alto- 
gether in  vain. 

Julie  had  evidently  failed  to  inspire  her  pupil  with 
her  own  passion  for  books,  and  her  letters  to  him  have 
scarcely  any  of  the  literary  allusions  which  flow,  as  if 
insensibly,  from  her  pen  when  she  is  writing  to  Con- 


236  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

dorcet  or  Guibert.  On  another  important  point  they 
were  equally  out  of  sympathy,  for  Abel  was  an  ortho- 
dox Catholic.  His  sister  shows  her  usual  tact  and 
consideration  in  avoiding  all  friction  on  this  account. 
Once  she  falls  into  the  mistake  of  putting  down  his 
name  as  a  subscriber  to  the  Encyclopedia,  but  on 
learning  that  he  is  not  pleased  at  once  assures  him 
that  she  can  easily  find  someone  to  take  his  place. 
When  he  is  in  search  of  a  tutor  for  his  sons  she 
undertakes,  with  d'Alembert's  assistance,  to  find  him 
a  suitable  person — clerical,  if  required.  In  all  the 
concerns  of  his  life,  great  and  small,  her  sympathy 
and  helpfulness  are  inexhaustible.  When  he  wishes 
to  leave  the  army  and  settle  down  on  his  estates, 
Julie,  though  opposed  to  this  measure,  arranges 
matters  so  that  he  may  suffer  as  little  as  possible 
on  account  of  it  in  the  opinion  of  those  in  authority. 
By  active  canvassing,  and  the  exertion  of  her  enor- 
mous personal  influence,  she  procures  him  the  coveted 
honour  of  the  Cross  of  St  Louis.  She  takes  all  the 
interest  of  the  normal  maiden  aunt  in  every  detail 
concerning  his  children,  though  she  is  not  pleased 
that  their  number  should  be  limited  to  two  ;  for,  like 
most  unmarried  people,  she  is  cheerfully  ready  to  pile 
on  others  the  burdens  in  which  she  herself  has  no 
share.  She  strongly  counsels  inoculation,  alleging 
her  own  case  as  a  lamentable  warning  against 
neglecting  that  precaution.  She  gives  advice  as  to 
the  choice  of  a  health  resort.  She  executes  millinery 
and  dressmaking  commissions  for  his  wife,  and  rears 
dogs  of  high  lineage  for  himself. 

It  is  a  significant  proof  of  the  horror  instilled  into 
her  by  her  early  experience  of  the  country  that  she 
never  paid  a  visit  to  Abel  at  his  own  house,  and 


FRIENDS   IN   COUNCIL  237 

probably  died  without  having  made  the  acquaintance 
of  his  children.  But  when  her  brother  and  his  young 
wife  came  for  a  short  time  to  Paris  her  zeal  and 
assiduity  knew  no  bounds.  She  was  determined 
that  they  should  have,  in  Transatlantic  phrase,  "a 
good  time,"  should  go  everywhere  and  see  everything. 
Her  influence,  popularity,  and  knowledge  of  the  world 
must  have  made  her  an  ideal  guide  in  Parisian  society, 
and  all  three  seem  to  have  enjoyed  their  time  together 
thoroughly,  though  they  were  pretty  well  worn  out  by 
the  end  of  it. 

The  current  impression  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse, 
derived  mainly  from  the  "  Letters  to  Guibert,"  is  of 
a  creature  all  fire  and  passion,  unfitted,  if  not  by  too 
much  goodness,  yet  certainly  by  too  much  brightness, 
for  human  nature's  daily  food.  But  such  a  belief  does 
no  justice  to  the  manifold  capabilities  of  her  complex 
personality.  Though  she  was  destined  to  be  neither 
wife  nor  mother,  it  is  plain  that  the  home-making  in- 
stinct of  the  normal  woman,  the  capacity  for  domestic 
love  and  loyalty,  and  for  maternal  tenderness,  lay 
deep  and  strong  in  her  nature.  That  she  often,  in 
secret,  rebelled  against  the  limitations  of  her  lot 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  and  there  came,  at  last,  a  time 
when  it  seemed  that  these,  as  if  by  magic,,  were  about 
to  be  removed.  One  chance  of  happiness — a  chance 
in  ten  thousand — was  to  be  hers,  but  that  gleam  of 
hope  was  to  shine  briefly  and  fitfully,  and  to  set  in  the 
darkness  of  utter  despair  and,  alas  !  of  remorse. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE    COMING    OF    LOVE 

A  CCORDING  to  Marmontel,  who.  for  all  his  fine 
•**>  feelings  and  flower)"  language,  can  be  spiteful 
enough  when  he  pleases,  Julie  de  Lespinasse  was 
by  no  means  averse  to  the  idea  of  changing  her  con- 
dition. On  the  face  of  it,  this  does  not  seem  either 
a  very  improbable  or  a  very  damaging  accusation,  but 
when  Marmontel  adds  that  she  was  always  keenly  on 
the  lookout  for  an  eligible  husband,  and  that  her  re- 
searches in  this  direction  failed  one  after  another,  he 
goes  directly  counter  to  everything  we  know  of  her 
character  and  actions.  "This  scheming  to  get  her- 
self married,"  says  Marmontel's  kinsman,  Morellet,  "  is 
altogether  at  variance  with  her  noble  and  impassioned 
nature,"  and  everyone  who  has  read  her  letters 
attentively  will  agree  with  him. 

Yet  Marmontel  s  atrocious  assertion  may  contain 
the  one  grain  of  truth  which  lends  a  falsehood  its 
worst  virulence.  Being  human,  and  a  woman, 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  must  needs  have  seen 
with  some  surprise,  and  even  with  some  resentment. 
that  amongst  all  the  men  who  eagerly  sought  her 
company,  and  paid  her  a  homage  so  flattering  and  so 
respectful,  not  one  should  have  wished  to  make  her 
his  wife.  From  an  English  point  of  view  it  is  in- 
deed an  amazing  circumstance,  since  women  popular 
in  society  have  certainly  never,  in  this  country,  been 
entirely  without  suitors.  But  Frenchmen,  though 

238 


THE   COMING   OF   LOVE  239 

they  claim  to  excel  Englishmen  in  making  love,  are 
willing  to  concede  that,  when  it  comes  to  marrying 
for  love,  the  superiority  is  on  the  other  side,  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  had  two  heavy  handicaps 
in  the  matrimonial  race — illegitimacy  and  poverty.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  her  income,  though  suffi- 
cient for  her  own  wants,  was  entirely  in  the  form  of 
life-annuities,  and  she  could  thus  bring  no  capital  into 
a  husband's  family.  Mercier,  commenting  on  the  un- 
paralleled increase  of  old  maids  in  Paris  (it  somehow 
always  is  unparalleled,  in  every  country  and  every 
age),  attributes  it  to  the  fact  that  these  ill-advised 
females  have  signed  contracts  for  annuities — a  fatal 
bar,  he  says,  to  the  signing  of  contracts  of  marriage. 
And  one  of  Mademoiselle  de  Launay's  abortive  love 
affairs  came  to  an  end  owing  to  a  similar  proceeding 
on  the  part  of  the  gentleman — entered  upon,  as  she 
firmly  believed,  from  malice  prepense,  as  an  excuse 
for  breaking  off  his  semi-engagement  to  her.  To 
suitors  of  every  degree  the  want  of  capital  would 
present  a  serious  difficulty,  while  those  of  good  family 
would  have  to  face,  in  addition,  the  less  material 
barrier  of  an  origin  worse  than  obscure. 

We  must  further  consider  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse,  at  the  period  of  her  greatest  popu- 
larity, was,  according  to  the  standard  of  that  time, 
no  longer  a  young  woman,  and  moreover  hopelessly 
disfigured  by  the  small-pox.  M.  de  Segur  quotes 
a  significant  phrase  of  hers,  apparently  meant  in 
apology  for  her  independent  mode  of  life.  "It  does 
not  matter  what  one  does,  when  one  is  thirty  years 
old,  and,  to  use  fine  language,  ravaged  by  disease"  It 
plainly  shows  that,  whatever  inward  suffering  such 
an  admission  may  have  cost  her,  she  did  not  fall  into 


240  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

the  mistake  of  overrating  her  matrimonial  chances. 
The  conventional  dogmas  of  her  day,  founded,  like 
all  dogmas  concerning  women,  on  tradition  rather 
than  fact,  taught  that  only  in  the  heyday  of  youth 
could  one  of  the  inferior  sex  hope  to  inspire  love, 
just  as  they  taught  that  no  woman  was  capable  of  be- 
ing a  friend  to  another  woman.  But  as  the  records 
of  that  period  abound  in  instances  of  loyal  and  gen- 
erous friendship  between  woman  and  woman,  even 
so  they  display  many  striking  contradictions  to  the 
"youth  and  beauty"  theory,  and  the  most  remark- 
able of  these  is  furnished  by  Julie  de  Lespinasse 
herself. 

In  that  same  year  (1764)  which  witnessed  the 
rupture  between  Madame  du  Deffand  and  her 
companion  there  had  been  a  change  in  the  Spanish 
Embassy  at  Paris.  The  incoming  ambassador  was 
the  Count  de  Fuentes,  a  nobleman  of  the  highest 
rank,  who,  a  few  months  after  his  arrival,  was  joined 
by  his  son  and  heir,  the  Marquis  de  Mora.  Though 
but  a  youth  of  twenty,  Mora  had  already  lived  through 
a  cycle  of  experiences  such  as  have  fallen  to  the  lot 
of  few  men  at  twice  his  age.  When  only  twelve 
years  old  he  had  found  himself  an  officer  in  the 
Spanish  army,  and — -a  husband.  His  marriage  (a 
family  arrangement  designed  to  end  a  protracted 
lawsuit)  was,  as  may  be  supposed,  in  the  first 
instance  only  equivalent  to  a  betrothal,  but  four 
years  later,  when  Mora  was  sixteen  and  his  poor 
little  bride  a  year  younger,  they  received  the 
Church's  supplementary  benediction  as  man  and  wife. 
Shortly  after  we  find  them  in  England,  to  which 
country  the  Count  de  Fuentes  was  then  ambassador. 
Here  they  were  seen  by  that  invaluable  gossip- 


THE   COMING   OF   LOVE  241 

monger,    Horace    Walpole,    whose   verdict    on    their 
personal  appearance  is  not  of  the  most  favourable. 

"  M.  de  Fuentes  is  a  halfpenny  print  of  my  Lord 
Huntingdon.  His  wife  homely,  but  seems  good- 
humoured  and  civil.  The  son  does  not  degenerate 
from  such  high-born  ugliness.  The  daughter-in-law 
was  sick,  and  they  say  is  not  ugly,  and  has  as  good 
a  set  of  teeth  as  one  can  have,  when  one  has  but 
two  and  those  black." l 

And  on  another  occasion  :   * 

"No  foreigners  were  there,  but  the  son  and 
daughter-in-law  of  M.  de  Fuentes.  .  .  .  Madame  de 
Mora  danced  first." 

The  following  year  (1761)  a  daughter  was  born 
to  this  immature  couple,  but,  perhaps  happily,  she 
did  not  long  survive.  Nearly  three  years  later,  the 
Marquis  and  Marchioness  de  Mora  having  then 
returned  to  Spain,  a  son  and  heir  was  born,  but  at 
the  cost  of  the  girl-mother's  life.  Left  thus  a 
widower,  Mora  joined  his  father,  now  in  Paris, 
desiring  perhaps  to  seek  distraction  from  his  grief. 
It  is  to  be  feared  that  he  was  not  long  in  finding 
it,  for  the  poor  child  to  whom  he  had  been  married 
seems  to  have  been  a  person  of  no  account,  either 
beyond  her  home  or  within  it. 

A  deeper  sorrow  than  any  that  could  reasonably 
be  expected  of  this  boy-widower  would  scarcely  have 
been  proof  against  the  intoxicating  influences  of  his 

i  It  is  worth  noting  that  the  charming  young  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne, 
wife  to  Louis  XIV.'s  grandson,  was  in  much  the  same  case.  The  "  strong 
white  teeth"  of  previous  generations  seem,  hwsa^d,  to  have  had  no  exist- 
ence save  in  the  dreams  of  reactionists,  while  the  creations  of  the  latter- 
day  dentist  are  a  consoling  and  palpable  reality. 
Q 


242  A    STAR   OF   THE    SALONS 

new  environment.  Everything  conspired  to  make 
Paris  delightful  to  him — his  father's  position,  his 
own  familiarity  with  the  language  and  literature  of  the 
country  (he  had  been  trained  under  a  French  tutor), 
and  especially  his  personal  charm  ;  for,  despite  the 
depreciatory  remarks  of  Horace  Walpole,  he  was 
considered,  both  in  Spain  and  France,  "  a  fine-look- 
ing fellow,"  tall,  graceful,  black-eyed,  with  a  sweet 
and  animated  expression  and  the  exquisite  manners 
characteristic  of  his  nation.  He  speedily  became 
the  rage  in  those  exalted  circles,  both  at  Versailles 
and  Paris,  to  which,  in  right  of  his  birth,  he  naturally 
belonged,  and  the  first  year  or  two  of  his  residence 
in  the  great  metropolis  seems  to  have  been  spent 
in  a  round  of  elegant  frivolity,  trenching  on  dis- 
sipation. 

Yet  all  the  time,  beneath  this  surface  levity,  there 
lay  the  capacity  and  the  desire  for  better  things 
inclining  him  to  sympathise  rather  with  the  noble 
army  of  toilers  and  thinkers  than  with  the  gay  crowd 
of  social  butterflies.  This  fundamental  earnestness  of 
character  had  been  fostered  by  the  influence  of  his 
father-in-law,  the  Count  d'Aranda,  in  whose  house- 
hold he  had  lived  during  the  earlier  years  of  his 
premature  marriage.  Aranda,  who  is  best  known  to 
posterity  for  the  part  which,  as  minister,  he  played  in 
the  expulsion  of  the  Jesuits,  passed  in  Conservative 
Spain  for  a  Liberal  of  the  first  water,  and  in  France 
was  highly  honoured  by  the  Encyclopedists  for  his 
devotion  to  the  cause  of  progress  and  reform.  It  was 
only  to  be  expected  that  Mora,  standing  in  so  close  a 
relation  to  Aranda,  and  imbued  with  his  ideas,  should 
have  much  in  common  with  the  adherents  of  the  En- 
cyclopedia, and  towards  them,  as  towards  his  natural 


THE   COMING    OF   LOVE  243 

affinities,  he  seems  to  have  gravitated  so  soon  as  the 
first  glamour  of  Court  life  had  worn  off. 

To  have  relations  with  the  Encyclopedic  party 
meant,  sooner  or  later,  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
Julie  de  Lespinasse,  but  Mora's  first  meeting  with  her 
dates  only  from  December  1 766,  when  he  had  already 
been  two  years  in  Paris.  A  letter  of  Julie's,  perhaps 
addressed  to  Holbach,  and  quoted  by  M.  de  Segur, 
describes  the  great  event  and  the  impression  produced 
upon  her  by  the  charming  young  Spaniard.  To  our 
more  sophisticated  generation  there  is  something  a 
little  repellent  in  the  hyperbolical  praises  which  she 
lavishes  on  the  perfections — moral,  intellectual  and 
social  —  of  this  youthful  paragon ;  yet  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  verdict  of  all  Mora's  contemporaries 
was  substantially  in  agreement  with  hers.  The  conclu- 
sion, however,  is  of  no  period  or  country,  being  no 
doubt  as  old  and  as  universal  as  love  itself:  "Don't 
go  and  imagine  that  I  am  in  love  with  him  ! " 

We  smile,  half  sadly  ;  yet  the  chances  are  that  she 
spoke  in  absolute  sincerity.  Almost,  by  eighteenth- 
century  convention,  a  middle-aged  woman  (she  had 
just  completed  her  thirty-fourth  year) ;  older  than  her 
age  through  ill-health  and  the  hardships  of  her  earlier 
life  ;  fresh  from  the  terrible  illness  which  had  destroyed 
every  claim  to  good  looks  ;  poor,  and  the  child  of  dis- 
honour— how  could  she  be  guilty  of  such  madness  as 
to  cast  her  eyes  on  this  fine  flower  of  the  proudest 
aristocracy  in  Europe,  this  idol  of  beautiful  and  high- 
born ladies?  Madness  it  might  well  indeed  have 
seemed  to  anyone,  and  of  a  kind  only  to  be  surpassed 
by  the  greater  madness  of  expecting  any  return  to  an 
attachment  so  misplaced.  Yet  here  it  was  the  impos- 
sible that  happened,  for  it  was  destined  that  Julie  de 


244  A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

Lespinasse  should  be  loved  by  this  man  as  few  women 
are  loved  by  men,  and  indeed  far  better  than  she 
loved  him. 

In  view  of  all  the  above  considerations  it  seems  prob- 
able enough  that,  although  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse 
afterwards  dated  the  beginning  of  her  attachment  to 
Mora  from  this  period,  she  really  did  not  yet  believe 
herself  to  be  in  love  with  him,  and  it  is  still  more 
probable  that  she  did  not  contemplate  the  possibility 
of  his  being  in  love  with  her.  Yet  one  would  fain 
know  with  what  feelings  she  heard  (for  so  interesting 
a  morsel  of  Parisian  gossip  must  surely  have  pene- 
trated to  her)  that  the  Marquis  de  Mora  was  just  then 
in  the  thick  of  a  family  quarrel,  having  for  its  subject 
a  second  marriage  of  convenience  projected  for  him 
by  his  relatives  and  by  him  strenuously  resisted  ? 
Whether  this  opposition  arose  entirely,  as  M.  de  Segur 
seems  to  think,  from  reluctance  to  abandon  the  liberty 
which  he  had  found  so  sweet,  or  whether  he  had 
already  begun  to  realise  that  in  the  tiny  salon  of  the 
Rue  Bellechasse  was  contained  the  one  woman  in  the 
world  for  him,  it  is  certain  that  he  was  successful  in 
carrying  his  point.  But  the  relations  with  his  parents 
were  in  consequence  somewhat  strained,  and  his  leave 
of  absence  (already  according  to  modern  views  inord- 
inately prolonged)  had  also  expired,  and  in  January 
1767,  a  few  weeks  after  his  first  meeting  with  Julie  de 
Lespinasse,  he  returned  to  Spain. 

Their  acquaintance,  when  barely  begun,  was  thus 
severed,  under  conditions  which  offered  no  great  hope 
of  its  renewal.  There  followed  an  interval  of  nearly  ten 
months,  occupied,  for  Julie,  with  such  interests  as  I 
have  already  attempted  to  describe — without,  the  salon 
and  its  ever-increasing  success ;  within,  the  pleasant 


THE   COMING   OF   LOVE  245 

company  of  d'Alembert  and  Condorcet.  For  Mora 
the  period  seems  to  have  been  more  eventful,  and  to 
have  coincided  with  an  extraordinary  development  of 
intellect  and  character.  Though  barely  twenty-three 
years  old,  he  had  already  attained  the  precocious 
maturity  inevitable  with  those  who  begin  life  too  soon. 
By  what  we  may  designate  the  "  Young  Spanish " 
party,  then  much  in  vogue,  he  was  enthusiastically 
hailed  as  the  coming  statesman,  the  future  apostle  of 
reform,  the  destined  renovator  of.  his  country's  great- 
ness. Yet  neither  these  brilliant,  if  chimerical,  antici- 
pations, nor  the  incontestable  social  triumphs  of  the 
present,  nor  even  a  flirtation  with  a  widowed  duchess 
of  great  beauty,  who  certainly  cherished  designs  on 
his  heart  and  hand,  could  reconcile  the  young  Mar- 
quis to  his  exile  from  Paris.  To  return  thither  was 
his  object  and  ambition,  and  although  the  death  of 
his  three-year-old  son  (in  July  1767)  caused  him  deep 
and  genuine  sorrow  there  is  no  evading  the  fact  that 
he  used  it  as  a  stepping-stone  for  the  attainment  of 
that  desired  end.  The  leave  of  absence  hitherto  re- 
fused (very  properly,  as  it  seems  to  us),  by  a  stony- 
hearted Minister  of  War,  was  granted  to  him  in  the 
character  of  a. bereaved  father  desiring  to  seek  con- 
solation in  the  bosom  of  his  family  still  resident  at 
Paris,  and  late  in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year  he 
once  more  joined  them  there. 

With  his  arrival,  a  new  era  began  both  for  him  and 
for  Julie  de  Lespinasse.  Whether  the  recollection  of 
her  had  been  amongst  the  influences  which  drew  him 
with  such  force  to  Paris  is  uncertain,  but  with  the 
closer  intimacy  following  on  his  return  came  a  feeling 
such  as  all  the  facile  gallantries  of  his  precocious 
adolescence  had  been  powerless  to  arouse  in  him,  and 


246  A   STAR   OF   THE    SALONS 

such  as  it  is  extremely  difficult  adequately  to  convey 
to  English  readers.  To  our  colder  and  more  reticent 
natures  the  southern  warmth  of  passion,  the  ecstatic 
chivalry  of  devotion,  poured  out  by  Mora  upon  the 
lady  of  his  heart,  seem  inevitably,  though  most  unjustly, 
tinged  with  unreality,  and  even,  to  some  extent,  with 
ridicule.  This  last  tendency  is  heightened  by  that 
unlucky  difference — on  what  is  commonly  called  the 
wrong  side — of  nearly  twelve  years,  the  only  one  of 
the  barriers  separating  the  pair  which,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  romance,  can  be  admitted  to  have  had  any 
validity  ;  for  birth  and  wealth  have  always  been  held 
to  be  trifles  in  comparison  with  true  love ;  and  even 
beauty,  as  we  must  all  have  observed,  often  has  its 
existence  in  lovers'  eyes  rather  than  in  objective 
reality,  while  health,  alas !  is  never  made  of  any 
account  at  all.  But  we  must  remember  that  Mora, 
owing  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  his  life,  was, 
both  in  his  own  estimation  and  that  of  others,  much 
older  than  his  age. 

"  I  am  young,"  he  writes  about  this  time  to  his 
friend,  the  Duke  de  Villa- Hermosa,  "but  no  man, 
however  old,  has  had  a  harder  and  more  varied  ex- 
perience of  the  world  than  I.  I  believe  that  I  know 
it  [the  world],  and  I  know  that  I  despise  it." 

"  He  had  seen  everything,  had  passed  judgment 
on  everything,  even  to  weariness  and  satiety,"  writes 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  in  reference  to  this  same 
period.  It  was  no  case  of  a  simple,  inexperienced 
youth  falling  victim  to  the  wiles  of  a  mature  woman 
versed  in  the  world's  wisdom.  Most  cogent  of  all  is 
the  fact  that  Mora,  during  his  remaining  six  years  of 
life,  retained,  amidst  difficulties  apparently  all  but  in- 
superable, his  devotion  unaltered,  and  may  almost  be 


THE   COMING   OF   LOVE  247 

said  to  have  died  with  Julie's  name  on  his  lips.  Per- 
haps it  may,  in  homely  phrase,  be  granted  that  he 
knew  his  own  business  best,  and  that,  young  as  he 
was,  his  choice  had  been  made  once  and  for  all. 

To  the  lonely,  storm-tossed  woman,  no  less  than 
to  Mora  in  his  premature  disillusionment  and  world- 
weariness,  this  attachment  seemed  the  awakening  to  a 
new  life.  At  first,  it  appears,  she  felt  an  honourable 
reluctance  to  accept  the  devotion  so  freely  tendered, 
but  her  lover  made  light  of  every  argument  against 
his  suit.  "  You  love  me,"  he  urged,  "and  where  love 
is,  nothing  else  is  of  any  account."  "And  soon,"  she 
says,  "he  persuaded  me"  to  believe  him.  All 
the  latent  passion  of  her  nature  awoke  in  response 
to  his,  and  with  hyperbolic  fervour  he  declared 
that,  in  the  art  of  loving,  even  the  women  of  his 
own  ardent  south  were  mere  children  in  comparison 
with  her. 

The  happy  dream  continued  for  some  months  with- 
out interruption.  Mora  inhabited  his  father's  hotel 
in  the  Rue  de  1' University  quite  close  to  the  Rue 
Bellechasse,  and  probably  managed  to  appear  most 
evenings  at  the  receptions  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse,  and  doubtless  often  to  secure  a  private 
conversation  by  arriving  before  the  other  guests.1 
"  More  than  once,  we  saw  him  worshipping  her,"  says 
Marmontel,  alluding  perhaps  to  tUe-a-t$te  interviews 
of  this  sort,  inopportunely  interrupted  by  some  new 
arrival.  But  at  the  end  of  about  six  months  Mora's 
leave  of  absence,  wonderfully  elastic  as  it  was,  came 
again  to  an  end,  and  he  was  obliged,  for  a  time,  to 
return  to  Spain.  His  route  was  so  arranged  as  to 

1  At  four  o'clock,  she  herself  says,  she  was  nearly  always  alone,  and 
this  was  the  time  chosen  by  anyone  desiring  a  private  conversation. 


248  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

include  a  visit  to  Voltaire l  at  Geneva — a  visit  chiefly 
remarkable  for  the  impression  made  by  the  young 
Spaniard  upon  his  host.  "  A  young  man  of  most 
unusual  merit,"  the  future  inaugurator  of  "a  new  age 
to  the  Iberians,"  are  the  phrases  which  he  employs, 
and  he  expresses  a  fervent  hope  that  Mora  will 
soon  be  included  in  the  Spanish  ministry.  These 
opinions,  so  far  from  being  peculiar  to  Voltaire,  are 
confirmed  by  all  who  were  personally  acquainted  with 
Mora,  and  in  the  absence  of  any  more  direct  testi- 
mony to  his  abilities  (for  M.  de  Se"gur  has  discovered 
that  even  his  letters  to  his  family  have  been  de- 
stroyed), we  are  obliged  to  suppose  that  they  must 
have  had  some  foundation  in  fact. 

The  next  twelve  months  seem  to  have  been  mainly 
employed  by  the  Marquis  (among  whose  merits  de- 
votion to  military  duty  can  certainly  not  be  reckoned) 
in  the  usual  efforts  to  obtain  leave.  The  marriage 
of  his  sister  with  his  especial  friend,  the  Duke  of  Villa- 
Hermosa,  was  the  pretext  on  which  it  was  at  last 
granted  him,  and  the  month  of  June  (1769)  found  him 
once  more  in  Paris,  and  more  in  love  than  ever. 

About  this  time,  apparently,  it  began  to  dawn  upon 
the  Count  de  Fuentes,  that  the  romantic  passion, 
which  he  had  doubtless  hitherto  regarded  as  mere 
harmless  schwarmerei,  was,  on  the  contrary,  directed 
towards  the  very  palpable  and  definite  end  of  mar- 
riage. A  more  unpleasing  discovery  could  scarcely 
be  imagined.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse,  and  had  a  high  respect  for  her 
character  and  abilities,  but,  naturally  enough,  he  was 
far  from  regarding  her  in  the  light  of  an  eligible 
daughter-in-law.  Much  more  promising  candidates 
1  The  end  of  April  1768. 


THE   COMING   OF   LOVE  249 

for  that  position — such,  for  example,  as  the  young 
dowager  above-mentioned — had  not  seemed  to  him 
good  enough  for  the  cherished  heir  to  all  his  honours 
and  titles.  He  determined  to  cut  the  matter  short, 
but  his  paternal  authority,  backed  by  the  representa- 
tions of  the  whole  family,  was  powerless  to  shake  the 
young  man's  resolution.  His  parents,  however,  in- 
sisted that  he  should  return  to  Spain  on  the  expira- 
tion of  his  leave  (early  in  1770),  and,  as  it  would  have 
been  quite  impossible  for  him  in  those  circumstances  to 
procure  an  extension  of  it,  he  was  obliged  to  submit. 

But  if  his  family  supposed  that  by  this  separation 
they  could  efface  the  image  of  Mora's  beloved  from 
his  heart,  they  were  very  much  in  error.  Realising 
that,  so  long  as  he  remained  in  the  army,  he  might 
never  again  be  allowed  to  visit  Paris  (for  in  those 
patriarchal  times  an  understanding  to  that  effect 
could  easily  be  entered  into  between  the  Count  de 
Fuentes  and  the  Minister  of  War),  he  decided  at  last 
to  abandon  his  profession  ;  and  in  the  winter  of  1770 
he  carried  this  decision  into  effect,  much  to  the  con- 
sternation of  his  friends,  who  had  been  predicting  a 
brilliant  future  for  him  in  that  calling.  (He  had  been 
made  a  general  a  few  months  previously.)  Ill-health 
was  the  ground  assigned  by  him  for  his  resignation, 
and  unfortunately  this  plea  had  more  validity  than 
was  at  first  supposed.  In  January  1771,  when  Mora, 
exulting  in  his  new-won  liberty,  was  on  the  point  of 
setting  out  for  France,  he  was  suddenly  laid  prostrate 
by  haemorrhage  of  the  lungs.  His  recovery  was  slow, 
and  as  soon  as  he  could  travel  the  doctors  insisted 
on  his  seeking  a  warmer  climate,  and  it  was  not  till 
August  1771,  that  he  was  able  to  carry  out  his  scheme 
of  returning  to  Paris. 


250  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  joy  of  the  lovers  reunited 
after  that  long  interval  of  a  year  and  a  half  passed  in 
such  cruel  alternations  of  hope  and  fear.  But  over 
their  joy  there  brooded  henceforth  a  shadow  never 
more  to  be  lifted — the  awful  shadow  of  death.  Con- 
sumption— a  disease  hereditary  on  one  side  of  Mora's 
family — had  marked  him  for  her  own,  and  every 
chance  of  escape  was  destroyed  by  the  hideous  treat- 
ment then  in  vogue,  which  consisted  mainly  of  bleed- 
ing and  starving.  The  ominous  haemorrhage  continued 
to  recur,  at  shorter  and  shorter  intervals,  and  with 
increasing  severity.  M.  de  Segur,  with  his  usual  in- 
sight, has  observed  that  Mora  in  these  circumstances 
was  sustained  by  the  hopefulness  peculiar  to  consump- 
tive patients,  while  his  betrothed,  for  whom  no  such 
illusions  existed,  tasted  at  times  all  the  anguish  of 
despair.  Everything,  as  she  justly  said,  was  against 
a  happy  ending.  Even  should  Mora  recover,  the  op- 
position of  his  family  to  the  contemplated  marriage 
remained  implacable  as  ever.  During  the  last  year 
or  two,  troubles  had  come  thick  upon  the  Count  de 
Fuentes.  The  expenses  of  his  position  as  ambassador 
had  plunged  him  into  grave  pecuniary  difficulties,  and 
his  wife,  long  in  failing  health,  was  now  threatened 
with  the  same  dread  malady  which  had  assailed  her 
son.  Fuentes  decided  to  resign  his  post  and  return 
to  Spain,  and  he  strenuously  insisted  that  Mora 
should  follow  him  thither.  The  paternal  authority, 
stronger  even  now  in  Spain  than  in  most  European 
countries,  was  in  this  case  reinforced  by  the  entreaties 
of  a  death-stricken  mother,  and  by  the  pronouncement 
of  the  physicians,  who  declared  that  the  Parisian  climate 
was  unfavourable  to  Mora.  He  gave  way,  but  with 
the  firm  resolution  that  it  should  be  for  the  last  time. 


THE   COMING   OF   LOVE  251 

"  I  could  never  bring  myself  to  go,"  he  writes  to 
Condorcet,  "  if  I  were  not  sure  of  a  return  which  will 
fulfil  all  my  hopes  and  wishes." 

And,  animated  by  his  indomitable  courage,  even 
Julie  de  Lespinasse  hoped,  at  times,  against  hope. 

"  Every  circumstance,  every  event,  every  reason 
physical  and  moral  is  against  me,"  she  writes,  "but 
he  is  so  strong  for  me  that  he  will  not  allow  me  to 
doubt  of  his  return." 


CHAPTER  XX 

A     PINCHBECK     HERO 

WE  now  approach  the  strangest  point  in  this 
strange  life-history — the  period  of  Julie's  exis- 
tence which,  presenting  as  it  does  a  psychological 
problem  perhaps  unparalleled  in  human  experience, 
has  long  been  a  source  of  unfailing  interest  to  certain 
sections  of  the  intellectual  world.  It  is  a  story  no  less 
sad  than  strange,  for  henceforth  our  affection  and 
sympathy  for  this  fascinating  woman  must,  on  her  own 
showing,  be  qualified  by  disapproval,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  is  plainly  not  so  much  sinned 
against,  as  sinning.  The  severest  censor  will  scarcely 
maintain  that  in  her  relations  with  the  de  Vichys, 
the  d'Albons,  and  Madame  du  Deffand,  the  balance 
of  blame  lay  on  her  side.  But  she  was  now  to  be 
found  wanting  towards  two  persons  who  had  deserved 
nothing  at  her  hands  but  good — namely,  the  Marquis 
de  Mora  himself,  and  d'Alembert.  So  far  as  abstract 
considerations  of  right  and  wrong  are  concerned,  the 
first  named  of  these  men  was  beyond  all  comparison 
the  more  injured  of  the  two.  But,  as  Fate  would  have 
it,  he  died  without  learning  the  extent  of  his  wrongs, 
while  d'Alembert  tasted  day  by  day  the  bitterness  of 
estrangement  from  the  woman  whom  he  had  loved  so 
devotedly.  To  him,  therefore,  our  pity  is  chiefly  due. 
And  yet  it  is  in  regard  to  her  treatment  of  him  that 
Julie's  conduct  admits  most  readily  of  excuse,  perhaps 
because  it  admits  most  readily  of  explanation. 

252 


A    PINCHBECK   HERO  253 

In  order  to  judge  her  fairly  we  must  first  realise,  as 
she  did,  the  preposterous  assumption  which,  in  d'Alem- 
bert's  view,  formed  the  basis  of  their  peculiar  friendship 
—namely,  that  while  he  did  not  find  it  convenient  to 
offer  her  marriage  himself,  or  perhaps  feared  a  refusal, 
she  was  on  no  account  to  think  of  marrying  anyone 
else.  It  can  scarcely  be  imputed  as  sin  to  Julie  that 
she  did  not  admit  the  validity  of  such  a  claim,  nor,  if 
we  consider  that  the  desire  of  pleasing  and  the  dislike 
of  giving  pain  were,  for  good  or  evil,  among  her 
strongest  characteristics,  can  we  greatly  blame  her 
for  carefully  concealing  from  d'Alembert  all  hopes 
and  expectations  of  a  matrimonial  description.  Other 
causes  besides  contributed  to  enforce  upon  her  the 
strictest  reticence.  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the 
projected  marriage  were,  as  has  already  been  shown, 
-enormous,  and  of  a  nature  certain  to  be  aggravated  by 
publicity.  Hence  the  whole  scheme  was  kept  a  secret 
from  all  save  one  or  two  intimate  friends,  such  as  the 
Suards  and  Condorcet.  So  well  indeed  was  the  secret 
guarded  that,  till  very  lately,  it  was  considered  by 
biographers  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse l  an  open 
question  whether  any  project  of  marriage  existed  at 
all.  But  the  unwearied  researches  of  M.  de  Segur, 
among  the  archives  of  Mora's  family  and  elsewhere, 
have  now  set  the  matter  beyond  doubt,  thus  clearing 
the  memories  of  both  lovers  from  a  suspicion  equally 
injurious  and  unjust. 

The  most  incomprehensible  part  of  the  whole  story 
is  that,  while  many  of  Julie's  acquaintance  who  did  not 
believe  in  a  betrothal  were  fully  conscious  that  a  love- 
affair  was  in  progress,  d'Alembert  alone  had  no  sus- 

1  It  was  even  hinted  by  Marmontel  that  Julie  tried  to  ensnare  Mora, 
who  disdained  so  unworthy  an  alliance. 


254  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

picion  of  either.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
young  Marquis,  and  approved  of  him  highly ;  saw 
him  constantly  in  the  company  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse,  and  entirely  realised  that  she  took  an 
unusual  interest  in  him.  But  to  d'Alembert  the 
blessed  word  friendship  accounted  for  everything. 
Men  are  in  general  curiously  slow  to  realise  the 
impression  made  by  other  men  upon  the  women  of 
their  own  circle,  but  d'Alembert  certainly  carried  this 
masculine  quality  to  an  altogether  unusual  extent. 
Even  so,  Julie,  as  her  after  history  proves,  possessed 
in  excess  the  opposite  or  feminine  characteristic  of 
susceptibility  to  the  slightest  suspicion  of  rivalry  in 
love.  It  is  hard  to  say  which  failing  is  responsible 
for  most  misunderstanding  and  misery. 

D'Alembert's  obtuseness  was  doubtless,  in  a  way, 
convenient,  but  it  is  easy  to  understand  that  it  must 
have  been  terribly  irritating.  Constantly  in  his  com- 
pany, sharing  with  him  every  detail  of  her  daily  life, 
yet  feeling  that  from  him  of  all  others  she  must 
hide  the  agonies  of  alarm,  the  ecstasies  of  renewed 
hope,  which  absorbed  her  whole  being,  Julie  found 
herself  tried  at  times  beyond  the  limits  of  endurance. 
Great  as  was  her  power  of  self-control,  she  was  far  too 
sensitive  and  highly  strung  to  have  a  really  even 
temper.  In  the  old  days,  at  Madame  du  Deffand's, 
one  of  her  admirers  had  gently  l  reproached  her  with 
her  deficiency  in  this  respect.  The  independence  of 
her  present  life  had,  no  doubt,  removed  some  of  the 
most  wearing  incitements  to  irritability,  but  on  the 
other  hand  her  health,  since  the  small-pox,  had  rarely 
been  even  tolerable.  To  judge  from  allusions  in  her 
own  letters  and  those  of  her  friends,  she  must  have 

1  In  verse.     The  writer  is  unknown. 


A   PINCHBECK   HERO  255 

suffered  continually  from  feverish  attacks,  coughs, 
neuralgia,  rheumatism,  and,  above  all,  sleeplessness. 
Before  the  world  she  bore  up  with  marvellous  courage, 
alike  against  these  ills  and  the  mental  tortures  of 
anxiety,  now  often  added  to  them.  But  courage  of 
.this  sort  must  give  way  sometimes  in  private,  and 
when  it  does  the  person  nearest  at  hand — in  the 
present  case,  d'Alembert — is  always  the  first  to  suffer. 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  was  no  longer  the 
same  with  d'Alembert,"  says  Marmontel  ;  "  he  had  not 
only  to  endure  coldness  from  her,  but  often  melancholy 
and  ill-temper.  He  bore  it  all  in  silence,  only  con- 
fiding his  unhappiness  to  me." 

Probably  Marmontel  was  the  friend  who,  as  d'Alem- 
bert himself  informs  us,  ventured  once  to  reproach 
Julie  for  her  unkindness,  and  received  the  reply 
that  she  reproached  herself  no  less,  but  that  it  arose 
from  the  impossibility  of  explaining  the  cause  of  her 
irritability  and  depression.  That  she  did  reproach 
herself,  and  continually  endeavoured,  not  altogether 
vainly,  to  make  amends  there  can  be  no  doubt. 
"Ah,  would  that  I  might  still  endure  those  moments 
of  bitterness ! "  sighed  d'Alembert,  after  her  death  ; 
"  she  knew  so  well  how  to  sweeten  them  and  make 
me  forget  them ! "  When  he  was  ill,  or  in  trouble, 
her  sympathy  seems  to  have  been  as  ready  and  help- 
ful as  ever.  In  the  month  of  July  1770  (at  the  time 
when  Mora,  absent  in  Spain,  was  still  planning  his 
release  from  the  service),  she  writes  to  Condorcet  in 
terms  unmistakably  inspired  by  genuine  and  affec- 
tionate solicitude. 

"  Help  me,  monsieur,  I  appeal  alike  to  your  friend- 
ship and  your  goodness.  Our  friend  M.  d'Alembert  is 


256  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

in  the  most  alarming  condition.  He  is  frightfully 
wasted,  does  not  sleep  at  all,  and  only  forces  himself 
to  eat.  Worst  of  all,  he  is  terribly  depressed,  and 
takes  no  interest  in  anything.  The  only  remedy  is 
a  complete  change.  .  .  .  We  all  want  him  to  make 
an  excursion  to  Italy,  he  does  not  altogether  refuse, 
but  he  will  never  go  so  far  alone,  nor  do  I  wish  that 
he  should.  He  needs  the  company  of  a  kind  and 
careful  friend  such  as  you.  You  are  a  companion 
after  his  own  heart,  you  alone  can  rouse  him  from 
the  condition  which  makes  us  all  anxious." 

She  proceeds  to  suggest  that  he  should  write  to 
d'Alembert  proposing  the  Italian  tour,  as  if  on  his 
own  account,  and  adds:  "You  will  quite  understand 
that  he  must  not  know  I  have  written  to  you."  Then 
comes  this  postscript,  irresistibly  reminding  us  of  Mr 
Micawber :  "  M.  d'Alembert  has  just  caught  me  in 
the  act  of  writing,  so  I  have  frankly  confessed  that 
I  was  suggesting  the  Italian  trip  to  you.  He  seems 
quite  content  with  the  idea,  so  do  you  arrange 
it  all  with  him  quickly,  lest  he  should  change  his 
mind." 

Condorcet  amiably  undertook  what  was  required  of 
him,  and,  although  the  Italian  tour  resolved  itself  into 
the  less  ambitious  form  of  a  month's  visit  to  Voltaire 
at  Ferney,  the  benefit  derived  by  d'Alembert  was 
considerable.  In  the  following  year,  indeed,  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse  writes  again  to  Condorcet :  "  I 
am  afraid  he  may  relapse  into  the  same  state  as  last 
year.  That  would  be  dreadful,  for  he  could  not  go 
abroad  again."  But  by  refraining  for  a  while  from 
work  he  recovered  his  normal  condition.  It  was  in 
this  same  year  (1771)  that  he  composed  the  "portrait" 


A   PINCHBECK   HERO  257 

or  character  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse  alluded  to  in  a 
former  chapter.  Admiring,  and  even  enthusiastic,  as 
is  the  tone  of  this  composition  generally,  it  contains 
one  or  two  passages  bearing  on  the  estrangement 
which  caused  him  so  much  distress. 

"  You  are  often  inclined  to  be  irritable  and  un- 
sympathetic, but  the  love  of  pleasing  is  so  strong  with 
you  in  general,  that  you  only  show  these  qualities 
to  the  writer  of  this  portrait.  It  is  true  that  you 
prove  your  confidence  in  his  friendship  by  allowing 
him  to  see  you  as  you  really  are,  but  that  very  friend- 
ship obliges  him  to  tell  you  that  you  thus  appear  at 
a  great  disadvantage." 

This  is  sufficiently  plain  speaking,  and  it  is  much 
to  Julie's  credit  that  she  never  seems  to  have  resented 
it.  But  for  a  specimen  of  downright,  pathetic,  hopeless 
misunderstanding  it  would  be  difficult  to  equal  our 
next  citation. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  have  the  kind  of  faults  which 
make  people  lovable — the  kind,  that  is,  which  arise 
from  passion,  for  those,  I  confess,  I  like.  But  un- 
fortunately the  failings  with  which  I  have  to  reproach 
you  are  not  of  that  sort,  and  perhaps  prove  (I  only 
hint  this)  that  you  are  scarcely  capable  of  passion." 

Poor  d'Alembert !  He  really  believed  that  if  Julie 
did  not  love  him  it  was  because  the  faculty  for  loving 
had  somehow  been  left  out  of  her  nature !  And  that 
very  year,  perhaps  at  that  very  time,  she  was  shutting 
herself  up  all  day  in  her  room  that  she  might  brood 
undisturbed  over  the  letters  which  reached  her  twice 
daily  from  Fontainebleau ;  for  there  Mora  (now  back 
in  France)  was  staying,  as  the  King's  guest. 


258  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

From  this  brief  retrospect,  indispensable  to  the  full 
understanding  of  one  count  in  the  indictment  against 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  we  return  to  take  up 
the  thread  of  the  story,  and  in  so  doing  touch  upon  the 
mystery  surrounding  the  other.  On  the  7th  of  August 
1772  (a  Friday,  as  Julie  afterwards,  with  a  shudder 
of  superstitious  awe,  remembered)  the  Marquis  de 
Mora  quitted  Paris  never  again  to  return  ;  but  six 
weeks  before  that  date  his  betrothed  had  encountered 
the  man  whose  influence,  though  as  yet  she  had  no 
foreboding  of  this,  was  destined  to  be  fatal  not  only 
to  all  her  hopes  of  happiness,  but  to  her  self-respect 
and  good  name.  From  every  point  of  view  it  behoves 
us  carefully  to  study  the  character  of  this  man,  if  per- 
chance we  may  arrive  at  understanding  the  amazing 
fascination  which  he  exercised  over  a  woman  so  ex- 
ceptional as  Julie  de  Lespinasse. 

Jacques  Antoine  Hippolyte  de  Guibert  was  born  at 
Montauban,  on  the  nth  of  November  1743,  or  just 
eleven  years  later  than  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse. 
His  father,  a  provincial  noble  of  small  means,  was 
also  a  soldier  of  some  distinction,  and  he  himself,  at 
the  age  of  thirteen,  began  his  military  career  by  active 
service  in  the  Seven  Years'  War.  Both  here,  and  after- 
wards in  Corsica,  he  highly  distinguished  himself,  and 
at  twenty-five,  by  merit  rather  than  favour,  attained 
the  rank  of  Colonel.  Two  years  later  he  published 
his  "  General  Essay  on  Tactics,"  a  work  which  created 
an  enormous — in  fact,  a  European — sensation.  Con- 
cerning the  technical  portions,  it  is  sufficient  to  say 
that  they  have  obtained  the  approval  of  two  such 
critics  as  Frederic  of  Prussia  and  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon. .  But  for  the  world  in  general  the  really  import- 
ant part  of  Guibert's  book  was  the  Introduction  or 


LE   COMTE   DE   GUIBERT 

FKOM    AN    RNCiKAVIN't;    IN   THE   BIBI.IOTHEQUE   NATIONALS  AFTKR   THE   PAINTING   BV   I.AN^'ON 


A   PINCHBECK   HERO  259 

Preliminary  Discourse,  wherein  he  by  no  means  con- 
fined himself  to  strictly  professional  topics.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  fervent  plea  for  the  abolition  of  abuses  in 
all  departments  of  State  administration,  and  though, 
doubtless,  only  formulating  opinions  then  everywhere 
in  the  air,  shows  a  boldness  and  independence  which 
in  those  days  of  despotic  authority  were  really  remark- 
able, and  call  for  our  respect. 

In  Paris  the  book  had  an  unparalleled  success, 
enhanced,  perhaps,  by  the  circumstance  that  for  over 
two  years  it  was  kept  on  the  Index  Expurgatorius 
of  the  French  Government,  and  could  only  be  read 
in  contraband  copies  imported  from  Holland.  The 
Encyclopedists,  always  in  sympathy  with  every  effort 
towards  reform,  were  naturally  the  most  enthusiastic, 
but  the  militant  nobility  were  also  highly  gratified 
by  the  thought  that  a  member  of  their  own  exclusive 
caste  had  proved  himself  as  able  a  writer  as  any 
literary  drudge  of  them  all.  Guibert,  who  was  now 
sojourning  in  Paris,  straightway  became  the  idol  of 
every  salon  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  metropolis.  Men,  such  men  as  Voltaire  and  the 
great  Frederic,  agreed  in  crediting  him  with  genius, 
and  were  only  uncertain  whether  it  lay  most  in  the 
direction  of  letters  or  of  arms.  Women  of  the  highest 
rank  gravely  debated  the  question  :  "  Which  would  be 
best  of  the  three? — To  be  M.  de  Guibert's  mother, 
sister,  or  mistress  ?  " 

Alas !  his  reputation  as  a  leader  of  men  and  his 
popularity  as  a  ladies'  hero  are,  at  the  present  day, 
equally  incomprehensible.  In  this  last  capacity, 
especially,  the  writer  has  earnestly  endeavoured  to 
understand  him,  in  the  humble  hope  of  thereby 
coming  nearer  to  the  explanation  of  his  power  over 


260  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

Julie  de  Lespinasse.  But  the  attempt  has  been  a 
dead  failure.  No  fascinating  villain,  no  rugged  in- 
carnation of  strength,  emerges  from  the  records  which 
alone  remain  to  aid  us  in  the  task  of  reconstruction. 
What  we  behold  is  a  commonplace  and  rather  fatuous 
egotist,  with  a  shrewd  eye  to  the  main  chance,  clever 
enough,  but  wholly  untouched  by  the  divine  fire  of 
genius,  good-natured  enough,  but  incapable  of  dis- 
interested devotion  to  any  really  lofty  aim.  Beyond 
a  doubt,  there  must  have  been  something  more  than 
this,  or  Guibert  would  never  have  been  worshipped 
as  he  was  by  all  the  women  who  knew  him — even 
those  of  his  own  household.  But  that  something 
more  has  vanished  past  recall  in  the  dark  gulf  of 
intervening  years. 

The  beginning  of  his  acquaintance  with  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse  dates  from  a  garden  fete,  held 
on  the  2ist  of  June  1772,  at  Moulin  Joli,  the  riverside 
villa  of  the  financier,  Watelet,  already  mentioned  as  a 
friend  of  d'Alembert's.  The  impression  which  she 
made  upon  him  may  be  gathered  from  certain  passages 
in  the  glowing  encomium  composed  by  him  on  the 
night  of  her  funeral. 

"She  was  thirty-eight1  years  old  when  I  first  met 
her,  and  her  figure  was  still  distinguished  and  full  of 
grace.  She  was  far  from  beautiful,  and  moreover  dis- 
figured by  smallpox.  But  her  plainness  had  nothing 
repulsive  about  it  even  at  the  first  glance,  at  the 
second  you  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  at  the 
third,  you  had  forgotten  it." 

Then  follow  the  remarks  on  her  varied  charm  of 
expression  quoted  in  an  earlier  chapter. 

1  In  reality,  thirty-nine. 


A   PINCHBECK   HERO  261 

Julie,  on  her  side,  two  or  three  days  after  the  party 
at  Moulin  Joli,  wrote  to  Condorcet : 

"  I  have  made  M.  de  Guibert's  acquaintance.  I  like 
him  much.  There  is  character  in  everything  he  says. 
He  is  a  strong  nature  and  quite  above  the  ordinary." 

A  little  later : 

"  M.  de  Guibert  has  been  to  see  me.  I  still  like 
him  immensely." 

In  the  light  of  subsequent  events,  these  expressions 
are  not  without  significance,  but  apart  from  that  con- 
sideration they  are  in  no  way  remarkable,  for  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse  was  prone  to  enthusiasms,  and 
to  the  use  of  language  which,  by  modern  standards, 
must  be  called  exaggerated.  There  is  indeed  every 
reason  to  believe  that  she  was  still  wholly  absorbed 
by  anxiety  concerning  Mora,  and  regarded  Guibert's 
company  as,  at  most,  a  pleasant  distraction  from  it. 
The  tone  of  her  letters  to  Condorcet  is  at  this  time 
marked  by  intense  depression. 

"  I  am  deeply  touched  by  your  sympathy  "  (she 
writes,  about  a  fortnight  after  the  departure  of  her 
betrothed),  "  it  will  help  to  console  me  and  to  support 
my  courage,  for  I  confess  I  find  that  it  needs  much 
courage  to  live.  It  would  need  more  still  to  die.  One 
has  ties  that  cause  one  suffering,  but  they  are  precious, 
and  one  must  resign  oneself  to  surfer.  ...  M.  de 
Mora  is  gone,  it  makes  a  great  blank  for  me." 

A  month  later : 

"You  are  very  kind,  and  I  am  very  grateful  to  you. 
I  have  been  very  unhappy  and  am  still  terribly 
anxious.  M.  de  Mora  has  left  Bagneres  for  Bayonne 


262  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

in  a  state  which  makes  me  fear  the  worst.  He  has  his 
physician  with  him,  but  this  is  no  security  against 
a  relapse,  and  in  his  present  condition  that  might 
be  fatal.  He  has  been  bled  nine  times,  and  was  too 
much  exhausted  to  realise  the  danger  of  attempting  to 
travel.  I  don't  know  when  I  can  have  news  of  him. 
You  are  the  kindest  and  most  sympathetic  of  men, 
judge  what  I  must  feel." 

In  the  following  month  : 

"  I  have  had  news  of  M.  de  Mora.  He  is  con- 
valescent, but  the  letters  take  twenty  days  to  come. 
It  is  a  great  effort  to.  him,  besides,  to  write  even  a 
line  or  two,  and  then  his  attacks  [of  haemorrhage]  are 
constantly  recurring.  My  affection  for  him  is  like  a 
sword  through  my  heart,  but  it  had  to  be.  There  are 
people  for  whom  there  is  nothing  but  misfortune. 
What  then  must  one  do  ?  Endure  one's  lot  and  look 
forward  to  death  as  sailors  desire  the  port  after  tem- 
pest. But,  kind  Condorcet,  you  will  think  that  I  am 
still  more  unhappy  than  I  was,  and  that  will  grieve  you. 
On  the  contrary,  I  am  much  better  than  I  have  been 
for  a  long  time.  I  can  reason  about  my  position 
and  speak  of  it,  and  before  I  could  only  feel  and 
suffer." 

When  this  last  letter  was  written  Mora  had  arrived, 
by  way  of  Bagneres  and  Bayonne,  at  his  father's  house 
in  Madrid.  Here,  for  a  time,  his  health  seemed 
slightly  improved,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  did  not 
find  home  life  at  all  conducive  to  mental  tranquillity. 
The  opposition  of  his  family  to  the  projected  marriage 
had  redoubled  in  violence,  and,  though  powerless  to 
shake  his  resolution,  it  harassed  him  unspeakably. 


A   PINCHBECK   HERO  263 

Even  his  correspondence  was  tampered  with,1  or  at 
least  such  was  the  opinion  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  who 
observed  that  her  letters  from  Spain  were  sometimes 
inexplicably  delayed,  and  sometimes  lost  altogether. 
In  orreat  distress  she  resorted  to  the  assistance  of 

o 

d'Alembert.  It  seems  a  strange  choice  to  make  of  a 
confidant,  but  d'Alembert  appears  to  have  been  nearly 
as  much  concerned  about  the  young  Spaniard's  health 
as  was  she  herself.  On  Spanish  mail  days  he  regularly 
went  to  the  post-office  to  inquire  for  letters  from  Mora, 
and  Julie's  anxiety  to  receive  them,  and  her  disappoint- 
ment when  none  arrived,  never  struck  him  as  in  any 
way  remarkable ;  in  fact,  he  seems  in  his  degree  to 
have  shared  both  emotions.  Nothing  can  be  more 
certain  than  that  these  letters  were  never  given  him 
to  read,  but  even  this  did  not  arouse  his  suspicions. 

In  the  present  case,  therefore,  when  Julie,  alarmed 
by  an  unusually  protracted  silence  on  the  part  of 
Mora,  implored  d'Alembert  to  write  for  information 
to  the  Duke  of  Villa- Hermosa,  the  only  member  of 
the  family  whom  she  did  not  mistrust,  he 2  at  once 
complied,  and  received  a  most  courteous  answer.  The 
Duke  assured  him  that  his  brother-in-law,  though  still 
very  weak,  was  making  satisfactory  progress  and  had 
recently  written  several  letters  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse.  D'Alembert  replied  that  they  had  not 
come  to  hand,  "and  certainly  it  is  not  the  fault  of  the 
post  at  this  end,  for  here  none  are  ever  lost.  She 
[Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse]  and  other  friends  of 
M.  de  Mora  have  reason  to  believe  that  their  letters  to 
him  have  had  the  same  fate."  He  then  begs  the  Duke 

1  At  least  two  fresh  attempts  were  made  at  arranging  a  suitable  alliance 
for  him  in  his  own  rank,  the  lady  in  each  case  seconding  to  the  utmost  of 
her  power  the  exertions  of  relations  on  both  sides. 

2  7th  December  1772. 


264  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

to  convey  to  Mora  a  letter  which  he  encloses.  The 
good-natured  nobleman  was  doubtless  far  from  ap- 
proving of  the  contemplated  mesalliance,  but  he  seems 
to  have  been  shocked  at  the  underhand  methods  em- 
ployed by  Mora's  other  relatives  (M.  de  Segur  thinks 
that  for  these  the  Countess  de  Fuentes  and  the 
Duchess  de  Villa- Hermosa  were  mainly  responsible), 
and  several  times  he  served  as  a  medium  for  the  safe 
transmission  of  letters  between  the  betrothed. 

Meanwhile,  the  Comte  de  Guibert  had  become  an 
habitut  of  the  salon  in  the  Rue  Bellechasse,  and  his 
friendship  with  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  had  grown 
closer  and  more  confidential.  Extraordinary  as  it  may 
appear,  the  principal  bond  between  them,  at  least 
from  the  lady's  point  of  view,  was  formed  by  the 
fact  that  each  of  them  was  in  love  with  another 
person,  and  that  in  each  case,  though  from  different 
reasons,  the  path  ran  far  from  smoothly.  Like  many 
conceited  men,  Guibert  enjoyed  posing  as  an  homme 
incompris.  He  had  an  attachment  of  some  years' 
standing  to  a  lady  who  did  not,  in  his  estimation,  love 
him  as  he  deserved  to  be  loved,  and  his  noble  soul 
was,  in  consequence,  afflicted  with  a  profound  melan- 
choly. So,  at  least,  he  persuaded  Mademoiselle  de 
Lespinasse,  who  listened  to  him  with  sympathy,  and, 
though  urging  him  to  remain  faithful,  could  not  but 
feel  that  he  had  been  unfortunate  in  his  choice.  (The 
lady  in  question  was  married,  but  this  detail  never 
seems  to  have  been  thought  worth  considering  by  any 
one  of  the  three.)  It  did  not  occur  to  Julie  that  there 
was  a  certain  risk  in  receiving  and  reciprocating  con- 
fidences of  so  delicate  a  nature.  She  was  unhappy 
and  she  found  relief  in  discussing  the  causes  of  her 
unhappiness  with  a  sympathetic  confidant.  She  did 


A   PINCHBECK   HERO  265 

not  realise  that,  all  through  that  anxious  winter,  Gui- 
bert  was  becoming  more  and  more  necessary  to  her. 
It  was  not  until  they  were  on  the  eve  of  a  separation 
that  she  became  conscious  of  the  importance  which  his 
presence  had  assumed  for  her.  It  was  then  that  she 
wrote  him  a  letter  of  which  she  was  hereafter  to  say  : 
"  I  detest,  I  abhor  the  fatality  which  urged  me  to 
write  you  that  first  note."  It  forms  the  beginning  of 
the  famous  correspondence  always  associated  with  her 
name,  and  marks  her  first  decisive  step  on  the  down- 
ward path,  from  which  it  was  never  more  in  her  power 
to  escape. 


THE    TENTH    OF    FEBRUARY 

U I  BERT  was,  entirely  to  his  credit,  distinguished 
from  the  bulk  of  his  countrymen  at  that  date 
by  a  passion  for  travelling,  which  extended  not 
merely  to  foreign  cities,  but,  in  a  wider  sense,  to 
foreign  countries.  Lack  of  means  prevented  him 
from  indulging  this  taste  to  the  full,  but  in  1773  he 
succeeded  in  achieving  a  four  months'  tour  in  Ger- 
many and  Austria.  It  was  his  intention  to  visit  the 
battlefields  of  the  Seven  Years'  War,  and  in  general 
to  study  the  military  organisation  of  Prussia — both 
objects  so  intelligent  and,  from  a  professional  stand- 
point, so  meritorious  as  almost  to  atone  for  the 
grandiloquent  exaggeration  with  which  he  afterwards 
talked  of  "his journey  round  the  world,"  and  even  for 
the  entry  in  his  diary  on  the  day  of  departure — a 
choice  specimen  of  sentimental  egotism. 

"May  2Oth,  1773. — Set  out  from  Paris,  impelled 
by  curiosity,  by  my  imperious  desire  to  see  and  to 
know  ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  still  more  agitated  by 
my  regrets,  heart-wrung  by  the  separation  from  all  the 
objects  of  my  affection,1  depressed  at  the  thought 
of  undertaking  a  long  journey  alone,  after  having 
hoped  for  the  company  of  a  friend  [the  Chevalier 
d'Aguesseau].  Why  then  did  I  not  stay  where  I 
was?  Because  temperament  is  all-powerful,  more 
powerful  even  than  inclination." 

1 A  euphemistic  allusion  to  the  married  lady  already  mentioned. 

266 


THE   TENTH    OF    FEBRUARY  267 

Three  days  before  the  date  fixed  for  his  departure 
he  received  that  "first  letter"  which  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  was  afterwards  so  bitterly  to  regret. 
Some  idea  of  the  extraordinary  mental  condition 
which  dictated  it  can  be  formed  from  the  extracts 
given  below. 

"You  are  leaving  next  Tuesday"  (it  begins),  "and 
as  I  do  not  know  what  effect  your  departure  will 
have  on  me,  or  whether  I  shall  feel  free  to  write  to 
you,  or  have  the  wish  to  do  so,  I  should  at  least  like 
to  speak  to  you  once  more,  and  to  make  sure  of 
hearing  from  you  when  you  reach  Strasbourg.  .  .  . 
You  are  really  very  kind.  I  have  just  re-read  your 
letter  of  this  morning  .  .  .  but  oh !  I  do  not  want 
your  friendship ;  it  would  harass  as  well  as  comfort 
me,  and  what  I  need  is  to  rest  and  to  forget  you  for 
a  time.  I  wish  to  be  honest  with  you  and  with 
myself,  and  in  my  present  state  of  agitation,  I  am 
really  afraid  of  not  understanding  myself.  Perhaps 
my  remorse  is  in  excess  of  my  wrongdoing ;  perhaps 
my  alarm  is  the  very  thing  which  would  most  offend 
the  man  I  love.  I  have  just  this  moment  received  a 
letter  from  him  so  full  of  confidence  in  my  affection ! 
.  .  .  O  Heaven !  by  what  magic  or  what  fatality 
have  you  come  to  lead  me  astray  ?  Why  did  I  not 
die  in  the  month  of  September1  ?  I  should  have 
died  without  regret  and  without  self-reproach.  Alas  ! 
I  feel  that  even  now  I  would  willingly  die  for  him. 
There  is  no  sacrifice  that  I  would  not  make  for  him, 
but  two  months  ago  there  would  have  been  no 
sacrifice  in  the  case.  I  did  not  love  more,  but  I 
loved  better.  But  he  will  forgive  me  !  I  had  suffered 

i  i.e.  the  month  after  Mora?s  departure. 


268  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

so  much !  I  was  worn  out,  body  and  soul,  by  long 
endurance.  This  last  persecution  of  stopping  our 
letters  made  me  sometimes  feel  quite  out  of  my  mind. 
It  was  then  that  I  saw  you,  and  then  that  you 
restored  me  to  life.  You  gave  me  once  more  a 
feeling  of  pleasure.  I  do  not  know  for  which  I  was 
most  grateful — the  thing  itself,  or  your  share  in  it. 

"  But,  tell  me,  is  this  the  tone  of  friendship?  Is  it 
that  of  confidence  ?  What  is  it  that  carries  me  away  ? 
Help  me  to  know  myself.  Help  me  to  recover  some 
sense  of  proportion.  My  mind  is  distracted.  Is  it 
my  remorse?  Is  it  my  fault?  Is  it  you?  Can  it  be 
your  departure  ?  What  is  it  that  harasses  me  ?  I  am 
quite  worn  out.  At  this  moment  I  have  such  confi- 
dence in  you  that  I  cast  away  all  self-control,  yet 
perhaps  I  shall  never  speak  to  you  again.  Good-bye  ; 
I  shall  see  you  to-morrow,  and  shall  perhaps  feel 
embarrassed  at  having  written  to  you  as  I  am  doing 
to-day." 

The  situation  revealed  in  this  amazing  letter  is  one 
into  which  there  usually  enters  a  traditional  element 
of  ridicule.  But  such  is  the  tragic  nature  of  the 
conditions  that  that  element  is  here  entirely  lacking. 
The  laughter  which  we  habitually,  and  not  unnaturally, 
bestow  upon  a  lady  who,  after  much  protesting  of 
fidelity,  suddenly  changes  the  object  of  her  affections, 
is  silent  in  the  face  of  the  spectacle  here  presented  to 
us — the  spectacle  of  a  woman  borne  headlong,  against 
her  will,  against  her  conscience,  nay,  even  against  her 
heart,  by  a  force  which  she  recognises  with  anguish  as 
maleficent,  but  is  yet  wholly  powerless  to  resist.  We 
feel  like  the  spectators  at  a  Greek  tragedy,  watching 
the  toils  of  Fate  slowly  closing  around  the  destined 


THE   TENTH   OF    FEBRUARY  269 

victim.  We  turn  once  more  to  scrutinise  the  man 
who — involuntarily,  it  would  appear — had  power  to 
effect  this  thing,  and,  once  more,  we  are  at  a  loss  to 
understand  in  what  that  power  consisted.  It  does  not 
seem  that,  at  this  stage  of  the  miserable  story,  Guibert 
had  made  any  attempt  to  win  the  affections  of  Julie 
de  Lespinasse.  Knowing  as  he  did  that  they  were 
already  bestowed  on  another,  and  observing  the  de- 
votion which  she  always  manifested  for  that  other, 
he  would  naturally  consider  any  such  attempt  as  use- 
less. Nor  does  he  seem  to  have  been  overjoyed  by 
the  discovery  of  his  mistake.  M.  de  Se"gur  suggests 
that  he  was  almost  terrified  by  the  revelation  of  a 
passion  so  far  exceeding  in  depth  and  power  anything 
with  which  his  former  affaires  de  cceur  had  made 
him  familiar.  That  any  scruples  of  morality  or 
honour  restrained  him  is,  in  the  light  of  his  subsequent 
conduct,  altogether  unlikely,  and  in  justice  to  him  we 
must  allow  that  such  scruples  in  such  a  case  would 
have  had  little  weight  with  most  men  of  his  generation. 
He  affected  to  misunderstand  this  terribly  outspoken 
declaration,  and  replied  with  some  soothing  common- 
places concerning  kindred  souls  and  the  joys  of 
friendship.  Her  response  shows  a  touching  eagerness 
to  accept  a  subterfuge  healing  to  her  self-respect. 

"If  I  were  young,  pretty  and  attractive,  whereas 
I  am  just  the  contrary,  I  should  think  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  artifice  in  your  behaviour  to  me,  but,  as 
as  it  is,  I  am  full  of  gratitude.  .  .  .  You  come  to  my 
assistance,  you  do  not  wish  me  to  have  to  reproach 
myself,  and  to  feel  the  recollection  of  you  a  wound  to 
my  self-respect.  You  wish  me  tranquilly  to  enjoy  the 
friendship  that  you  Coffer  me  with  such  kindness.  I 


270  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

accept  it,  it  will  be  a  dear  possession  to  me,  and  a 
consolation  above  all  others." 

Fortified  by  this  fragile  pretext  she  continued,  in 
her  own  phrase,  to  "  overwhelm"  Guibert  with  letters 
during  his  absence  abroad.  The  feverish  interest 
which  she  displays  in  everything  concerning  him, 
the  bitterness  of  her  disappointment  when,  as  often 
happens,  he  is  remiss  in  replying  to  her  letters,  and 
most  of  all  her  frequent  uneasy  allusions  to  Madame  de 
Montsauge,  the  lady  supposed  for  the  moment  to  reign 
in  Guibert's  heart,  show  but  too  plainly  the  real  nature 
of  her  feeling  for  him.  Yet  her  affection  for  Mora,  and 
her  anxiety  regarding  his  health,  seem  still  unchanged, 
and  this  extraordinary  dualism — continued  to  the  end 
of  her  life — is  the  strangest  feature  of  the  case. 

For  example :  "It  is  the  postman  who  twice  a 
week  [i.e.  the  days  of  the  Spanish  mail]  decides  all 
the  actions  of  my  life.  Yesterday  he  made  reading  an 
impossibility  to  me.  I  could  only  think  of  the  letter 
which  had  not  come."  Then,  almost  in  the  same 
breath:  "You  promised  to  write  to  me  from  Stras- 
bourg." And  again  :  "  Not  a  word  from  you  since  the 
24th  of  May  ?  Are  you  dead,  or  can  you  have  already 
forgotten  that  those  you  have  left  behind  have  not 
forgotten  you  ?  .  .  .  I  had  news  yesterday  [i.e.  that 
Mora  had  relapsed]  which  overwhelmed  me  with  grief. 
I  passed  the  night  in  tears,  and  when  I  was  utterly 
exhausted,  and  could  feel  conscious  of  anything  but 
pain,  I  thought  of  you,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  if 
you  had  been  here  I  would  have  sent  you  word  that 
I  was  in  trouble,  and  perhaps  you  would  not  have  re- 
fused to  come  to  me."  Again  :  "His  character  is  all 
that  my  heart  in  its  fondest  wish  could  desire,  but 


THE   TENTH   OF   FEBRUARY  271 

how  his  health  alarms  me !  .  .  .  Oh,  what  must  you 
be  to  have  turned  my  thoughts  for  so  much  as  a 
moment  from  the  most  charming  and  most  perfect  of 
human  beings  ?  " 

Of  Guibert's  part  in  the  correspondence  during 
this  expedition  only  two  letters  have  been  preserved. 
Both  are  written  from  Vienna,  towards  the  close  of 
his  absence  abroad,  and  have  been  published  by  M. 
Charles  Henry  in  his  "  Lettres  Inedites  de  Mademoi- 
selle de  Lespinasse."  In  both  these  epistles  he  is 
careful  still  to  maintain  the  fiction  of  "friendship," 
but  at  the  same  time  shows  an  anxious  "cfesire  to 
soothe  and  conciliate  his  sensitive  correspondent, 
which  process  he  pursues  with  a  well-intentioned 
tactlessness  rather  astounding  in  a  gentleman  a  bonnes 
fortunes. 

"  I  found  five  letters  of  yours  awaiting  me  here,  yes 
five.  You  may  be  sure  that  I  was  careful  both  in  count- 
ing and  reading  them.  You  will  insist  upon  my  con- 
fessing that  I  had  hoped  for  other  letters  as  well  [an 
allusion  to  Madame  de  Montsauge].  Alas,  yes !  I 
did  hope  for  others,  and  I  found  three  \  What  will 
you  say  to  a  feeling  which  ought  to  be  stronger  than 
yours,  yet  always  lags  behind  yours  ?  Ah,  no !  don't 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  it,  you  could  only  pain  me 
by  doing  so.  After  all,  I  have  no  right  to  complain, 
she  does  her  best,  she  is  not  capable  of  any  stronger 
feeling.  .  .  .  Can  I  expect  her  to  be  like  me,  or  like 
you?  ...  I  love  your  friendship  as  it  is  ...  not 
because  it  flatters  me  (I  cannot  understand  the  happi- 
ness that  arises  from  vanity *),  but  because  I  feel  that 
I  return  it  in  all  its  fulness.  That  being  so,  why 

1  This  is  glorious  ! 


272  A   STAR    OF  THE   SALONS 

did    I   write   to  you  so   seldom    during   my   stay   in 
Silesia?" 

He  explains  that  he  was  always  too  busy  by  day 
and  too  tired  at  night,  and  had  written  to  nobody,  and 
proceeds,  referring  to  a  passage  in  one  of  her  letters  l : 
"What  an  absurd  catalogue  you  have  made  of  all 
these  people  who  take  precedence  of  you !  I  swear 
that  Madame  de  M.  and  you  always  are  the  two  first 
objects  of  my  thoughts,  I  could  not  say  to  which  of 
you  I  write  first.  To-day,  for  example,  it  is  to  you. 
Then  comes  my  father,  then  the  Chevalier  d'Agues- 
seau.  Just  see  what  favouritism  I  show,  in  placing  the 
Chevalier,  my  friend  from  childhood,  after  you !  " 

In  the  next  letter,  which  announces  his  imminent 
return,  he  gives  her  the  magnanimous  assurance  :  "I 
shall  see  you  before  Her"  and  immediately  spoils  the 
effect  by  adding  :  "  That,  no  doubt,  is  because  I  come 
first  to  Paris,"  Madame  de  Montsauge  being  then  in 
the  country.  Then,  apparently  realising  his  blunder, 
he  tries  to  patch  it  up  after  this  fashion  :  "  But  if  she 
were  on  my  road  to  Paris,  and  I  thought  that  you 
were  ill  or  in  trouble  and  needed  me,  I  would  only 
stay  a  minute  with  her  before  going  straight  to  you. 
Friendship,  as  I  understand  it,  at  least  where  you  are 
concerned,  has  claims  for  me  which  you  do  not  venture 
sufficiently  to  estimate." 

On  such  crumbs  of  condescending  consolation  the 
proud  and  sensitive  woman  supported  existence  as 
she  could.  But  when  Guibert,  late  in  October  1773, 

1  "  How  many  persons  are  you  more  anxious  to  see  again  than  me  ?  I 
will  give  you  the  catalogue  :  Madame  de  M.,  the  Chevalier  d'Aguesseau, 
MM.  de  Broglie,  Beauveau,  de  Rochambeau,  de  Peze,  etc.  ;  Mesdames  de 
Beauveau,  de  Boufflers,  de  Rochambeau,  de  Martonville,  etc.,  and  then  the 
Chevalier,  the  Count  de  Crillon,  and  last  of  all  me." 


THE   TENTH   OF   FEBRUARY  273 

returned  to  Paris,  having  had  on  the  whole  a  very 
successful  tour — which  amongst  other  agreeable  in- 
cidents included  a  highly  flattering  reception  from  the 
great  Frederic — his  feeling  for  Mademoiselle  de  Lespin- 
asse  seems  to  have  rapidly  increased  in  intensity.  Now 
that  he  was  again  in  her  company  he  became  daily 
more  and  more  conscious  of  her  wonderful  personal 
charm.  We  have  his  own  assurance  that  this  charm 
was,  for  him,  in  no  way  impaired  by  her  want  of  good 
looks,  and  the  question  of  age  seems  to  have  had  no 
more  weight  with  him  than  it  had  had  with  Mora. 
He  became^  in  fine,  avowedly  her  lover,  but  a  lover 
of  far  different  fashion  from  the  man  whose  life  was 
slowly  ebbing  away  in  distant  Madrid.  This  writer 
has  no  wish  to  bear  over-hardly  upon  Guibert  in  the 
futile  desire  of  clearing  at  his  expense  the  reputation 
of  Julie  de  Lespinasse.  It  may  even  be,  as  M.  de 
Segur  conjectures,  that  it  was  exactly  the  earthly 
element  in  his  passion  for  her,  as  contrasted  with  the 
romantic  and  chivalrous  devotion  of  his  rival,  which 
endowed  him  with  a  power  so  terrible  and  so  irresist- 
ible. But  at  the  same  time  it  is  abundantly  clear  that 
she  not  only  struggled  long  before  yielding  to  this 
baser  form  of  temptation,  but  afterwards  made  con- 
tinual efforts  to  rise  above  it,  and  that  her  will  was 
in  each  case  borne  down  by  the  man's  unflinching  and 
unscrupulous  purpose.  Equally  manifest  is  the  fact 
that,  whereas  she  contemplated  the  sacrifice  of  her 
engagement  with  Mora,  Guibert  never  for  a  moment 
relinquished  his  purpose  of  marrying  another 
woman,  and  did  not  even  feel  bound  to  abandon 
for  a  time  the  lighter  love  affairs  which  occupied 
a  large  share  of  his  existence. 

There  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  dwelling  upon 


274  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

this  period  of  Julie's  history.  To  do  so  would,  for 
the  present  biographer,  be  scarcely  less  painful  than 
to  describe  in  detail  the  dishonour  of  a  familiar  friend. 
Yet  two  points  we  are  bound  in  common  justice  to 
emphasise  :  the  first,  that  it  is  difficult  to  judge  such 
a  case  by  the  standard  of  the  present  generation  ;  the 
second,  that  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  was  as  far  as 
possible  from  resembling  the  crowd  of  light-hearted 
sinners  who,  on  every  side,  surrounded  her,  and 
suffered  agonies  of  remorse  such  as  few  women  of  her 
entourage  would  have  been  capable  of  feeling  on  such 
a  score.1 

It  was  in  February  17/4,  a  date  unmistakably 
indicated  by  more  than  one  reference  in  her  letters, 
that  she  forfeited,  as  she  says,  all  right  to  respect 
herself.  The  inevitable  Nemesis  was  not  long  in 
coming,  but  it  did  not  assume  the  form  of  public 
exposure  and  disgrace.  Nothing  in  the  whole  story 
is  more  remarkable  than  the  entire  absence  of  any 
suspicion  as  to  the  true  nature  of  her  relations  with 
Guibert.  It  was  not  till  one  of  the  pair  had  been  dead 
for  thirty-three  years,  and  the  other  for  nineteen,  that 
the  posthumous  publication  of  the  "  Letters  "  revealed 
that  long-kept  secret,  to  the  intense  astonishment  of 
their  few  surviving  contemporaries.  Yet  they  seem 
to  have  been  constantly  together,  passing  hours  alone, 
either  in  a  private  box  at  the  Opera,  or  in  Julie's 
rooms  in  the  Rue  Bellechasse.  That  no  one  in  these 
circumstances  should  have  even  guessed  at  the  truth 
testifies  alike  to  the  high  character  borne  by  Mademois- 
elle de  Lespinasse,  and — in  the  interests  of  justice,  we 

1  She  writes  to  Guibert :  "  The  crime  of  a  moment  has  ruined  my 
whole  life.  What  does  it  profit  me  that  I  was  always  virtuous  before  I 
knew  you  ?  I  know  that  I  have  sinned  against  virtue  and  against  myself, 
and  I  have  lost  all  self-respect." 


THE   TENTH   OF   FEBRUARY  275 

must  add — to  the  honourable  reticence  maintained 
by  Guibert,  a  reticence  all  the  more  creditable  to  him 
that  it  scarcely  seems  to  have  been  in  general  among 
his  habits.1 

Julie's  punishment  was  to  come  in  more  subtle 
fashion,  through  the  man  she  had  wronged  in  the  first 
instance,  and  in  the  second  through  that  other  man  to 
whom  she  had  made  a  sacrifice  so  appalling.  During 
the  early  part  of  that  winter  Mora's  condition  had 
been  rather  more  hopeful,  but  in  the  fatal  month  of 
February  the  haemorrhage,  accompanied  by  an  ominous 
cough,  recurred  with  unusual  violence.  The  alarming 
intelligence  was  communicated  by  Villa- Hermosa  to 
d'Alembert,  and  by  him  to  Mademoiselle  de  Lespin- 
asse.  He  was  much  alarmed  by  the  agony  of  terror 
to  which  it  reduced  her,  but,  as  usual,  failed  to  draw 
the  irresistible  inference.  "There  is  no  place  in 
the  world,"  he  innocently  writes  to  the  Duke,  "where 
M.  le  Marquis  de  Mora  can  be  better  loved 
than  in  the  little  corner  of  it  which  we  inhabit." 
Alas !  he  was  far  indeed  from  conjecturing  the  two- 
fold forces  of  grief  and  remorse  which  gave  to  the  date 
of  Mora's  seizure — the  night  of  February  the  loth — a 
significance  of  unspeakable  horror.  For  on  that  self- 
same night  that  Mora  received  his  death-blow  he  was 
betrayed  by  the  woman  he  had  trusted  so  entirely. 

From  this  last  attack  he  never  really  recovered, 
and  to  those  surrounding  him,  and  even  to  himself,  it 
became  clear  that  the  end  could  not  be  far  removed. 
Meanwhile,  d'Alembert,  whose  solicitude  is  a  remark- 
able testimony  to  the  winning  personality  of  Mora,  had 

1  In  his  "£loge,"  written  after  Julie's  death,  he  speaks  of  her  love  for 
Mora  in  terms  which  leave  not  the  slightest  room  for  suspecting  that  he 
h  ad  himself  been  preferred. 


276  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

for  some  time  past  been  endeavouring  to  persuade 
the  patient  and  his  friends  that  the  air  of  Madrid  and 
the  methods  of  Spanish  doctors  were  largely  respon- 
sible for  the  present  state  of  things,  and  that  the  best 
hope  lay  in  removal  to  the  more  temperate  climate 
of  Paris,  and  in  the  resources l  (save  the  mark !) 
of  modern  medical  science  there  attainable.  In  this 
view  he  was  supported  by  Lorry,  a  celebrated  Parisian 
doctor,  who  had  been  called  in  to  Mora  during  his 
residence  in  France.  The  Marquis  had  at  first  given 
little  heed  to  their  persuasions,  probably  because  he 
felt  himself  unequal  to  so  long  a  journey,  but  now, 
despite  his  increased  weakness,  he  suddenly  decided 
on  attempting  the  transfer  to  Paris.  The  real  motive 
for  this  change  of  plans  remained  a  mystery  to  the 
world  at  large,  but  was  only  too  well  understood  by 
Julie  de  Lespinasse.  Although  far  from  realising 
the  actual  state  of  the  case,  he  had  become  conscious 
of  an  undefined  something  in  her  letters  which  had 
not  been  there  before  ;  some  failing  in  the  spontaneous 
fervour  which  had  been  wont  to  respond  so  entirely 
to  his  own  ;  some  hint  of  regret  and  self-reproach  suffi- 
cient to  alarm  the  sensitive  instincts  of  a  lover.  Yet 
it  seems  that  no  thought  of  investigation,  far  less  of 
vengeance,  had  any  share  in  dictating  his  return. 
Suffering  and  separation,  he  thought,  had  deadened 
her  feeling  for  him,  but  his  presence  and  the  warmth 
of  his  unabated  affection  would  give  it  new  life.  And, 
what  is  more  strange,  Julie  appears  to  have  desired 
his  return  as  much  as  he.  This  was  partly  due  to  her 
sincere  conviction  that  the  best  chance  for  his  life  lay 

i  In  justice  to  d'Alembert's  intelligence  it  must  be  admitted  that  he 
ranks  excessive  bleeding,  practised  it  appears  in  Spain  to  a  worse  degree 
than  in  France,  among  the  causes  of  Mora'-s  weakness. 


THE  TENTH   OF   FEBRUARY  277 

in  removal  from  Madrid  ;  but  besides  this  she  had 
evidently  some  confused  feeling  that  such  love  as  his 
might  extend  to  the  forgiving  of  her  great  offence, 
and  save  her,  even  now,  from  herself  and  Guibert. 

On  the  3rd  of  May  1774,  Mora  "tore  himself,"  in 
Julie's  own  words,  "from  his  family  and  friends," 
and  set  out  from  Madrid  accompanied  by  his  Spanish 
physician — an  escort  of  very  doubtful  utility.  He 
travelled  by  easy  stages,  and  at  first  bore  the  fatigue 
better  than  might  have  been  anticipated,  but  when 
he  had  been  a  week  on  his  way  the  fatal  haemorr- 
hage appeared  once  more.  In  his  weakened  condition 
there  seemed  scarcely  a  possibility  of  his  surviving 
this  last  attack,  and  Julie,  who  had  doubtless  received 
the  news  from  his  doctor  or  one  of  his  servants, 
writes  to  Guibert  in  terms  which  best  express  the 
amazing  dualism  of  feeling  already  referred  to. 

"  Never  till  now  have  I  truly  known  despair.  I 
feel  a  degree  of  terror  which  deprives  me  of  all 
reason.  I  wait  for  Wednesday's1  news.  ...  It  is 
beyond  my  strength  to  realise  that  he  whom  I  love, 
he  who  loved  me,  will  perhaps  never  again  hear  me 
call  upon  him,  will  never  again  come  to  my  help. 
The  thought  of  me  must  have  made  death  terrible 
to  him  ;  on  the  loth  he  wrote  to  me  '  I  feel  in  myself 
the  power  to  make  you  forget  all  that  you  have 
suffered  for  my  sake,'  and  that  same  day  he  was 
laid  low  by  this  fatal  attack." 

Meanwhile,  Mora,  tenacious  of  his  purpose,  had 
succeeded  in  dragging  himself  as  far  as  Bordeaux, 
where  he  arrived,  "almost  dead,"  on  the  2$rd  of 
May.  Here,  four  days  later,  he  passed  away, 

1  Mail  day. 


278  A    STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

having  received  the  last  sacraments  of  that  Church 
with  which,  in  his  lifetime,  he  had  been  so  little  in 
sympathy.  On  his  dying  bed  he  gathered  sufficient 
strength  to  write  once  more  in  these  words  to  the 
woman  whom  he  had  loved  with  such  devotion  : 

"  I  was  about  to  have  seen  you  once  more,  and  now 
I  must  die.  What  a  fearful  stroke  of  Fate !  But  you 
once  loved  me,  and  the  thought  of  you  is  still  sweet 
to  me.  It  is  for  your  sake  that  I  am  dying." 

Thus  passes  from  the  life  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse 
the  one  man  who,  as  it  seemed,  might  have  made 
that  life  a  perfect  whole.  To  us,  indeed,  he  is,  of 
necessity,  scarcely  more  than  a  shadow,  yet  through 
the  universal  testimony  of  his  contemporaries,  and 
the  little  which  we  know  of  his  own  actions,  we 
vaguely  divine  that  here  was  one  who  had  in  him 
the  possibilities  of  a  great  nature. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

FOR   ONE,    DESPAIR  ;    FOR    MANY,    HOPE 

HP  HE  news  of  Mora's  death  was  six  days  in  reach- 
A  ing  Paris.  Of  its  immediate  effect  upon  Julie 
de  Lespinasse  we  can  only  judge  by  scattered  re- 
ferences in  letters  of  a  later  date.  That  in  the  first 
anguish  of  despair  she  resolved  on  taking  her  own 
life  is  certain,  and  will  be  surprising  to  no  one  familiar 
with  her  passionate  and  impulsive  nature.  That  Gui- 
bert  alone  suspected  her  purpose,  and  succeeded  in 
dissuading  her  from  it,  is  rendered  equally  certain  by 
the  incessant  reproaches  which,  on  this  very  score,  she 
afterwards  heaped  upon  him.  The  sight  of  her  agony 
evidently  inspired  him  with  genuine  pity,  and  perhaps 
with  some  degree  of  remorse,  and  in  his  efforts  to 
reconcile  her  to  life  he  showed  a  tenderness  which 
she  was  unable  to  resist.  The  thought  may  even,  in 
spite  of  herself,  have  crossed  her  mind,  that  the  barrier 
between  them  was  now  removed.  Perhaps  she  refers 
to  the  half-conscious  hope  thus  suggested  in  these 
words,  written  after  she  had  come  to  a  better  under- 
standing as  to  the  nature  of  Guibert's  feeling  towards 
her  : 

"  I  dared  to  think  you  might  love  me  as  I  loved 
you.  You  must  have  thought  me  mad  to  imagine 
such  a  thing.  I  to"  expect  constancy  from  a  man  of 
your  age  endowed  with  every  quality  that  can  recom- 
mend him  to  all  the  most  charming  of  women !  " 
279 


28o  A    STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

Yet  if  she  sometimes  for  a  moment  ventured  to 
entertain  any  thought  of  consolation,  it  was  presently 
swept  away  in  the  torrents  of  self-reproach  which 
overflowed  her  whole  being.  Not  only  had  she  been 
false  to  Mora,  but  she  was,  in  her  own  estimation, 
responsible  for  his  death.  She  forgot  that  the  fatal 
journey  had  been  undertaken  with  the  highest  medical 
sanction,  and  that,  in  any  case,  it  could  only  slightly 
have  hastened  the  inevitable  conclusion.  By  this 
last  consideration,  Guibert,  who  took  Bordeaux  on  the 
way  to  his  father's  house  at  Montauban  that  summer, 
and  at  Julie's  request  made  special  inquiries  into 
the  details  of  Mora's  death,  vainly  endeavoured  to 
reassure  her. 

"Why  will  you  make  bad  worse,"  he  writes  to  her, 
"  by  imagining  that  you  had  any  share  in  his  death  ? 
He  had  carried  the  cause  of  it  within  him  for  two 
years,  and  twice,  when  in  Spain,  only  just  escaped 
with  his  life.  He  was  dying  when  he  set  out  on  his 
journey.  The  consul  at  Bordeaux  told  me  that  the 
doctor  had  declared  he  would  have  died  all  the  same 
anywhere." 

Reasonable  as  was  this  line  of  argument,  it  could 
not  prevail  against  the  thought  that  Mora's  anxiety 
on  her  account  (though  "he  knew  not  how  low  I  had 
fallen  ")  had  been  the  determining  cause  of  his  journey, 
and  that  this  anxiety  had  embittered  his  last  moments. 
The  sympathy  of  such  friends  as  Suard  and  Condorcet, 
who  had  known,  or  guessed  at,  her  relations  with  the 
deceased,  brought  her  no  comfort,  because  she  felt 
herself  unworthy  of  it,  and  in  the  case  of  d'Alembert, 
who  was  genuinely  afflicted  on  his  own  account,  she 
must  have  experienced  the  double  sting  of  a  double 
deception.  Even  when  the  Count  de  Fuentes,  ig- 


FOR   ONE,   DESPAIR;   FOR   MANY,   HOPE    281 

noring,  with  the  courtesy  and  good  feeling  of  a  true 
Spaniard,  the  bitter  family  dissensions  of  which  she  had 
been  the  cause,  wrote  to  thank  her  in  most  moving 
terms  for  all  her  kindness  to  his  beloved  son,  he  only 
suggested  the  reflection  :  "  Unhappy  man,  he  does  not 
know  that  the  death  of  his  son  is  perhaps  due  to 
me." 

It  must  be  owned  that  her  letters,  filled  as  they 
were  with  self-reproach  and  regret,  cannot  have  been 
particularly  agreeable  reading  to  a  man  so  happily 
occupied  with  himself  and  his  own  merits  as  Guibert. 
He  had,  besides,  other  things  to  endure,  as  a  set-off 
to  the  gratification  of  being  beloved  by  the  most  re- 
markable woman  in  Paris,  and  preferred  to  the  man  in 
whom  many  had  divined  the  future  ruler  of  Spain. 
Julie,  so  tactful,  so  conciliatory,  and  so  generous  in 
her  dealings  with  the  world  at  large,  was  with  him 
all  exaction,  irritability,  and  jealousy.  She  might 
perhaps  have  forgiven  him  his  pleasing  habit  of  losing 
or  damaging  borrowed  books  (though  d'Alembert, 
she  warns  him,  is  less  lenient  on  this  score),  but  the 
negligence l  with  which  he  carried  her  letters  loose  in 
his  pocket,  or  left  them  lying  about  for  anyone  who 
chose  to  read,  exasperated  her  beyond  all  bearing. 
More  serious  still  was  the  light-hearted  fashion  in 
which  he  forgot  or  broke  through  appointments  ac- 
cording to  his  own  convenience.  But  all  these  things 
were  as  nothing  compared  with  the  discovery  that 
he  had  not  really  broken,  as  he  had  assured  her  he 

1  It  has  been  pointed  out  to  the  writer  that  this  does  not  seem  to  tally 
with  what  was  previously  said  of  Guibert's  discretion.  The  remark  is  per- 
fectly just,  but  it  is  none  the  less  certain  that  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse, 
in  almost  every  letter,  upbraids  him  with  negligence  of  the  kind  specified 
in  the  text.  It  is  certainly  almost  impossible  to  understand  how  the 
secret  could,  under  such  conditions,  have  been  so  well  kept. 


282  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

had  done,  with  Madame  de  Montsauge.  Their  corre- 
spondence is  a  continuous  record  of  quarrelling  and 
reconciliation,  and  we  scarcely  know  over  which  to 
marvel  most — the  terrible  fascination  which,  despite 
all  disillusionment,  still  keeps  its  baleful  hold  upon 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  or  the  astounding  tact- 
lessness of  Guibert,  who  never  seems  to  have  the 
faintest  apprehension  of  what  will  be  the  wrong  thing 
to  say,  and,  having  said  it,  is  always  much  aggrieved 
at  the  effect  thereby  produced.  The  following  extracts 
from  a  letter l  written  during  that  absence  at  his  father's 
house  above  alluded  to  will  give  some  idea  of  what, 
in  the  gallant  Colonel's  estimation,  was  a  nice  way  of 
stating  unpleasant  facts,  and  at  the  same  time  will 
throw  light  on  one  of  his  better  qualities,  his  capacity 
for  family  affection. 

"  When  I  was  at  Bordeaux,  I  saw  my  little  niece, 
my  poor  sister's  daughter.  I  am  very  anxious  about 
the  child's  future.  She  is  at  present  in  the  care  of  an 
aunt,  who  will  look  after  her  as  long  as  she  can,  but 
she  is  growing  old,  and  her  husband  is  older  still.  If 
he  dies  she  will  have  no  money  for  herself,  and  the 
poor  little  girl  would  then  be  badly  off  indeed ! 
There  would  be  nothing  for  it  but  a  convent. 

"  That  is  not  all.  The  little  girl  has  a  brother  nearly 
twelve  years  old.  He  is  being  miserably  taught,  as 
is  always  the  case  in  the  provinces.  I  should  like 
to  give  him  a  better  education,  and  then  put  him  in 
the  army,  but  I  cannot  afford  it.  ...  Then,  when  I 
arrived  at  home,  I  found  my  father  threatened  with  a 
blow  which  would  mean  his  ruin  "  (the  resumption  of 
his  fief  by  the  King).  "...  Add  to  this,  that  i  have 

1  Qth  September  1774.     From  the  edition  of  the  Comte  de  Villeneuve- 
Guibert. 


FOR   ONE,   DESPAIR;    FOR   MANY,   HOPE    283 

a  mother  and  two  sisters  .  .  .  that  I  have  a  few  debts, 
of  no  great  amount  certainly,  but  still  important  for 
anyone  who  is  not  rich,  that  living  in  Paris  increases 
them  insensibly  every  year,  and  that  I  do  not  want  to 
live  anywhere  else.  .  .  .  Consider  all  these  points 
and  you  will  not  be  surprised  that  I  am  out  of  spirits. 
The  future  is  full  of  difficulties  and  perhaps  the  only 
way  to  pay  off  my  debts  and  be  able  to  help  my  family 
will  be  to  marry.  My  father  has  had  some  pretty 
good  offers  made  him  on  my  behalf  in  this  part  of  the 
world.  I  have  refused  them,  for  I  would  rather  kill 
myself  than  live  in  the  provinces.  I  cannot  find  a 
single  congenial  companion  there.  You  and  your 
circle,  but  especially  you  yourself,  have  spoiled  me 
for  a  country  life.  .  .  . 

"  There  is  only  one  person *  besides  yourself  who 
keeps  me  bound  to  Paris.  Is  it  right  that  you  should 
reproach  me  because  I  cannot  entirely  detach  myself 
from  a  woman  whom  I  have  once  loved  ?  Is  not  the 
case  just  the  same  with  you,  and  do  you  not  find  room 
in  your  heart  for  another 2  beside  me  ?  " 

Julie's  reply  to  this  remarkable  letter  is  a  marvel 
of  dignity  and  self-control.  After  assuring  him  that 
she  will  use  her  influence  to  prevent  the  resumption 
of  his  father's  land  (a  promise  which  she  effectually 
redeemed)  she  continues : 

"  I  do  not  oppose  your  plans  for  the  future.  For 
me,  the  future  has  no  existence,  so  you  may  imagine 
that  I  cannot  have  much  of  an  opinion  as  to  that  of 
other  people.  Speaking  generally,  I  should  say  that 
you  would  be  wiser  not  to  marry  in  the  provinces. 

1  Madame  de  Montsauge. 

3  An  allusion  to  his  dead  rival,  Mora. 


284  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

.  .  .  Paris  is  the  best  place  in  the  world  for  poor 
people  to  live  in.  Only  bores  and  fools  need  have 
money  there.  .  .  .  What  you  say  of  your  nephew 
and  niece  is  most  interesting  and  does  you  honour, 
but  shows  your  old  habit  of  worrying  yourself  about 
the  future.  For  the  present,  the  children  are  all 
right.  .  .  .  Why  should  not  the  girl  be  happy  in  a 
convent,  especially  if  no  pressure  is  put  upon  her  in 
the  matter  ?  As  for  the  little  boy,  there  will  be  much 
less  difficulty  about  a  career  for  him.  You  know 
better  than  I  do  that  the  teaching  at  a  provincial 
school  is  just  as  good,  or  just  as  bad,  as  at  a  school  in 
Paris,  and  it  will  make  no  difference  at  all  as  to  his 
getting  into  the  army." 

Three  weeks  later,  she  thus  recurs  to  the  subject 
of  his  matrimonial  projects  : 

"You  will  never  guess  the  occupation  to  which 
I  am  devoting  myself  at  present.  I  want  to  find  a 
wife  for  one  of  my  friends.  I  have  an  idea  which 
I  hope  may  be  successful.  The  Archbishop  of  Tou- 
louse [Lomenie  de  Brienne]  can  be  of  great  service 
to  us  in  arranging  the  matter.  It  is  a  young  girl  of 
sixteen,  who  has  only  a  mother  and  no  father ;  she 
has  a  brother.  She  will  have  560  pounds  a  year  on 
her  marriage,  and  will  have  a  home  with  her  mother 
for  a  long  time,  because  the  brother  is  only  a 
child.  This  girl  cannot  have  less  than  26,000  pounds 
(ultimately),  and  may  have  more.  Would  this  be  to 
your  liking?  If  it  is,  we  will  set  to  work,  and  there 
is  no  fear  of  a  rebuff,  for  the  Archbishop  is  as  tactful 
as  he  is  polite.  We  will  talk  it  all  over,  and  if  this 
does  not  succeed,  I  know  a  man  who  would  be  very 
glad  to  have  you  for  his  son-in-law,  but  his  daughter 


FOR    ONE,    DESPAIR;    FOR   MANY,   HOPE     285 

is  not  more  than  eleven.     She  is  an  only  child,  and 
will  be  very  rich." 

Guibert,  in  his  reply,  makes  no  direct  allusion  to 
these  rather  startling  suggestions,  neither  of  which, 
it  may  be  observed,  was  eventually  carried  into 
practice.  He  merely  comments  on  the  injustice  of 
Fate,  as  exemplified  in  the  case  of  a  friend  who, 
though  in  no  special  need  of  money,  had  just  annexed 
a  wealthy  heiress,  and  goes  on  in  these  words  : 

"  And  I  must  marry  too !  I  must.  There  is  no 
help  for  it !  The  Count  de  Crillon  [the  friend  in 
question]  had  650  pounds  a  year,  and  I  have  only 
half  that.  He  was  steady,  and  I  am  in  debt.  .  .  .  My 
father  has  a  marriage  in  view  for  me.  ...  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  it  (when  we  meet,  understood),  you 
will  advise  and  help  me.  If  I  am  forced  to  marry, 
I  should  prefer  you  to  choose  for  me." 

When  we  read  this  extraordinary  interchange  of 
ideas  we  are,  for  a  moment,  driven  to  the  conclusion 
that  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  was  at  last  on  the 
way  to  be  cured  of  her  infatuation,  that  she  had 
realised  the  man's  essential  paltriness,  and,  with 
the  patient  scorn  of  a  higher  nature,  had  turned  her 
attention  to  serving  him  in  the  only  way  which  he 
was  capable  of  appreciating.  Some  such  thought  was 
certainly  half  present  to  her  consciousness.  Her 
letters  about  this  time  are  filled  to  overflowing  with 
the  expression  of  her  remorse  for  having  been  false 
to  a  better  man  (as  she  not  obscurely  implies)  than 
her  correspondent,  and  of  her  conviction  that  for  her 
all  possibility  of  happiness  vanished  on  the  day  when 
Mora  breathed  out  his  life  in  the  inn  at  Bordeaux, 


286  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

But  with  Guibert's  return  to  Paris  the  old  "magic,'1 
the  old  "  intoxication "  (both  words  are  hers),  re- 
asserted their  power.  The  question  of  marriage  was, 
for  the  time  being,  shelved  (probably  even  Guibert 
did  not  find  it  an  easy  subject  for  verbal  discussion), 
and  things  went  on  much  as  before — unhappily,  that 
is,  but  without  any  definite  rupture. 

But,  meanwhile,  events  had  occurred  which  were 
destined  strangely  to  affect  the  fortunes  of  France, 
and  Julie  de  Lespinasse  was  too  near  the  heart  of 
things  to  be  insensible,  even  in  her  utmost  private 
sorrow,  to  the  momentous  changes  taking  place 
around  her.  On  the  loth  of  May  1774,  two  or  three 
weeks  before  the  day  of  Mora's  death,  Louis  XV. 
had  passed  away,  little  regretted  by  his  subjects,  who 
were  eagerly  looking  to  the  new  reign  as  the  inaugur- 
ation of  a  new  era.  The  young  King  was  known 
to  be,  roughly  speaking,  all  that  his  grandfather  had 
not  been — irreproachable  in  morals,  deeply  impressed 
with  the  responsibilities  of  his  position,  sincerely  bent 
on  promoting  the  welfare  of  his  subjects.  His  girl- 
queen  was,  as  yet,  beloved  for  her  beauty,  her 
winning  youthful  ways,  her  graciousness  and  gaiety. 
All  that  was  best  in  the  nation  throbbed  with  hope 
that  now  at  last  old  grievances  would  be  swept  away, 
old  wrongs  redressed,  and  for  a  time  it  seemed  as  if 
this  hope  might  be  fulfilled. 

Amid  the  universal  excitement,  Julie  appears  at 
first  to  have  rather  inclined  to  the  unpopular  part 
of  Cassandra.  The  Abb£  Morellet,  writing  after  the 
Revolution,  has  recorded  how,  when  returning  from 
Versailles  on  the  day  following  that  of  the  King's 
death,  he  encountered  her  driving  with  some  friends, 
and  how  his  eager  announcement :  "  It  is  all  over," 


FOR   ONE,   DESPAIR;   FOR   MANY,   HOPE    287 

was  met  with  this  dispiriting  comment  thrown  from 
the  carnage  window  :  "  My  dear  abbe",  we  shall  only 
change  for  the  worse."  Commenting  on  this  all  too 
accurate  prophecy,  Morellet  makes  the  sensible  re- 
mark that  she  was  always  inclined  to  look  on  the 
dark  side  of  things,  and  that  such  people  must  some- 
times be  in  the  right.  These  gloomy  forebodings, 
however,  due  probably  to  the  personal  anxieties  with 
which  she  was  then  distracted,  gave  way  to  hope 
when  she  found  that  Turgot  was  to  be  a  member 
of  the  new  Ministry,  and  at  times  she  almost  forgot 
her  own  troubles  in  unselfish  anticipation  of  the  re- 
forms which  he  would  now  have  power  to  effect. 

This  remarkable  man,  one  of  the  purest  and 
noblest  characters  in  history,  had,  at  this  time,  been, 
as  she  says,  for  se venteen_years  her  friend.  Their  in- 
timacy must  thus  have  dated  far  back  into  the  period 
of  her  tutelage  at  St  Joseph,  and  he  was  amongst 
those  who,  on  the  rupture  with  Madame  du  Deffand, 
espoused  her  part,  to  the  extent  of  renouncing  all 
friendship  with  this  last-named  lady.  By  birth,  he 
belonged  to  the  legal  caste,  but  being  a  younger 
son  was  destined  for  the  Church,  and  sent  to  study 
theology  at  the  Sorbonne.  It  is  worth  noting  that  he 
never  regretted  the  years  so  spent,  but  esteemed 
the  mediaeval  institution  of  "theses"  and  "dis- 
cussions "  an  excellent  training  for  the  intellect,  and 
was  wont  in  after  years  to  say  smilingly  to  his  old 
college  friend,  Morellet :  "  My  dear  abbe",  it's  only 
divinity  students  like  you  and  me  who  know  how  to 
reason  correctly ! "  But,  though  of  exemplary  conduct 
(Morellet,  with  honest  enthusiasm,  records  that  he  was 
wont  to  blush  like  a  girl  at  the  slightest  approach  to 
licentiousness  in  conversation),  Turgot  was  an  ex- 


288  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

ceedingly  bold  thinker,  and  felt  within  himself  a 
growing  aversion  to  the  ecclesiastical  calling.  This 
feeling  was  incomprehensible  to  most  of  his  friends, 
who,  for  their  own  part,  found  no  difficulty  in  reconcil- 
ing speculative  unorthodox}7  with  outward  conformity, 
and  endeavoured  to  dissuade  him  from  a  step  which 
would,  they  said,  completely  spoil  his  career.  He 
gently  answered  that  they  were  quite  justified  in 
doing  what  their  consciences  permitted,  but  that  for 
himself  it  was  impossible  to  go  on  all  his  life  wearing 
a  mask ;  and  therefore  abandoned  the  Church  for  his 
father's  profession,  the  Law.  In  this  new  vocation 
his  talent  and  industry  soon  brought  him  success,  and 
in  the  next  ten  years  he  rose  from  one  position  to 
another  in  the  "  Magistracy"  of  Paris. 

It  was  during  this  period  (1751-1761)  that  he  began 
to  frequent  the  salons  of  Madame  du  DefTand, 
Madame  Geoffrin,  and  Madame  Helvetius.  His 
acquaintance  with  this  last-named  lady  dated  back 
to  his  student  days  at  the  Sorbonne,  when  she  was 
still  Catherine  de  Ligniville,  and  lived  under  the 
wing  of  her  aunt,  Madame  de  Graffigny,  the  popular 
novelist  and  playwright.  Minette,  to  use  her  familiar 
appellation,  was  one  of  a  family  of  twenty  children, 
and  would  have  been  doomed  to  a  "religious"  life 
had  not  Madame  de  Graffigny  come  to  the  rescue. 
The  aunt  and  niece  had  at  first  a  hard  struggle  to 
make  ends  meet,  but  Madame  de  Graffigny  was 
more  successful  than  most  women-writers  of  that 
time  in  making  literature  pay,  and,  in  the  end, 
attained  a  fairly  comfortable  position.  Turgot,  who 
was  a  great  admirer  of  her  novels,  came  often  to  her 
house  in  the  Rue  d'Enfer,  not  far  from  the  Sorbonne, 
to  discuss  literature  with  her,  and,  incidentally,  to  play 


TURGOT 

FKOM  THE    PAINTING    IN   THE    MUSEE   DE   VERSAILLES 


FOR   ONE,   DESPAIR;   FOR   MANY,   HOPE    289 

at  shuttlecock  with  Minette,  despite  the  hindrance  of 
a  scholar's  gown.  Morellet,  who  was  introduced  by 
his  friend  to  the  two  ladies,  saw,  as  he  thought,  in 
those  games  of  shuttlecock,  and  the  conversations 
accompanying  them,  the  beginning  of  a  hopeful 
romance ;  but  apparently  it  was  all  on  one  side, 
for  in  1751  Mademoiselle  de  Ligniville  married 
Helve"tius,  the  wealthy  farmer -general  and  dinner- 
giving  Maecenas  of  the  Encyclopedists,  and  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe  that  she  was  satisfied  with 
her  choice.  Turgot  and  she,  however,  continued 
friends  to  the  last,  and  when,  after  twenty  years 
of  married  life,  she  became  a  widow  he  would  fain 
have  made  her  his  wife,  but  the  memory  of  her 
dead  husband  was  still  supreme  in  her  heart,  and 
though  she  long  survived  him  she  would  never 
marry  again. 

Turgot,  on  his  side,  remained  single  all  his  life — 
a  life  consistently  devoted  to  the  loftiest  and  most 
unselfish  aims.  His  pas'sionate  desire  for  social 
amelioration — on  which  subject,  he  was,  as  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse  aptly  expresses  it,  "a  fanatic" 
—found  comparatively  little  scope  so  long  as  he 
continued  to  practise  law  in  Paris;  but  in  1761  he 
was  appointed  to  the  Intendancy  of  Limoges — i.e. 
of  three  provinces  comprised  under  that  name.  For 
twelve  years  he  held  this  post,  and  during  that  time, 
by  the  excellence  of  his  administration,  he  did  all 
that  under  the  existing  laws  was  possible  to  lighten 
the  burdens  of  the  suffering  peasantry.  When,  in 
August  1774,  he  was  appointed  Comptroller-General 
of  the  Finances,  it  seemed  to  him,  and  to  his  many 
sympathisers,  that  the  opportunity  for  a  radical  reform 
— to  be  effected  by  introducing  modifications  into 


290  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

those  laws — was  at  last  granted  him.  In  a  letter  to 
Guibert,  Julie  de  Lespinasse  records  with  something 
like  transport  what  Carlyle  calls  his  "  noblest  plain- 
ness of  speech  "  to  the  King,  and  the  King's  "  noblest 
royal  trustfulness,"  in  return. 

"  He  had  made  some  difficulty  about  accepting  the 
Comptrollership  when  M.  de  Maurepas  on  behalf  of 
the  King  offered  it  to  him.  When  he  went  to  thank 
the  King,  the  King  said  to  him  :  '  So,  you  would  rather 
not  have  been  Comptroller-General?'  'Sire,'  said 
M.  Turgot,  '  I  confess  I  would  rather  have  had  the 
Admiralty,  because  it  is  more  of  a  fixed  position, 
and  I  should  have  been  more  certain  of  doing  good 
in  it.  But  now  I  yield,  not  to  the  King,  but  to  the 
honest  man.'  The  King  took  hold  of  both  his  hands, 
and  said :  '  You  shall  never  repent  it. '  M.  Turgot 
added :  '  Sire,  it  is  my  duty  to  represent  to  your 
Majesty  the  necessity  of  economy.  Your  Majesty 
should  be  the  first  to  set  an  example  in  this  respect. 
No  doubt  the  Abbe  Terray1  has  already  said  the 
same  thing  to  your  Majesty.'  'Yes,'  said  the  King, 
'  he  has.  But  not  as  you  have  said  it.'  You  may 
take  all  this  as  absolutely  certain,  for  M.  Turgot 
never  adds  a  word  to  the  truth.  This  sympathy  on 
the  King's  part  is  M.  Turgot's  great  hope,  and  I 
believe  you  will  share  in  it." 

Alas !  that  hope  was  soon  to  be  borne  down  by  the 

1  Turgot's  predecessor  as  Comptroller-General.  His  character  may 
be  conjectured  from  the  following  anecdote.  When  Maurepas  first 
proposed  Turgot  for  the  post  Louis  objected :  "  But  they  say  he  never 
goes  to  Mass!"  "I  don't  know  how  that  may  be,  Sire,"  answered 
Maurepas,  "but  the  Abbe  Terray  always  went."  The  honest  young 
King  admitted  that  this  argument  was  conclusive,  and  sent  for 
Turgot. 


FOR   ONE,   DESPAIR;    FOR   MANY,   HOPE    291 

forces  of  selfishness,  ignorance  and  prejudice — forces 
which,  within  twenty  years'  time,  were  destined  to 
plunge  alike  the  nation  and  its  innocent,  well-meaning 
sovereign  into  the  most  awful  cataclysm  known  to 
modern  history. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

POLITICS    AND    A    PRETTY    WEDDING 

APART  from  her  sympathetic  watching  of  Turgot's 
career,   Julie,  during  the  autumn  of  1774,  found 
some   distraction    from   her   troubles    in    making   ac- 

o 

quaintance  with  an  almost  forgotten  statesman,  who 
by  that  shrewd  observer  of  politics  and  politicians. 
Benjamin  Disraeli,  was  reckoned  among  the  "sup- 
pressed characters  of  English  history."  Lord  Shel- 
burne,  for  it  was  he,  had  relations  with  some  members 
of  the  Encyclopedic  party,  chiefly  with  Morellet,  who, 
two  years  previously,  had  been  a  guest  at  his  country 
house  in  England.  It  was  but  natural  that,  when  he 
in  his  turn  visited  Paris,  he  should  desire  an  intro- 
duction to  an  Encyclopedist  so  prominent  as  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse.  During  his  stay  in  France 
they  saw  a  great  deal  of  each  other,  and  a  warm 
friendship  grew  up  between  them.  On  her  side,  this 
was  no  doubt  partly  a  result  of  the  Anglomania  which 
she  shared  with  most  of  the  Philosophic  party,  and 
which  blended  with  her  sympathies  in  politics, 
literature,  and  philanthropy. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  intellect,"  she  writes  to  Guibert, 
"he  is  the  leader  of  the  Opposition,  he  was  the  friend 
of  Sterne,  he  adores  his  works.  Naturally  he  attracts 
me  strongly."  A  little  later,  in  reply  to  some  criticism 
of  Guibert's  :  "Yes;  that  is  the  very  reason  why  I 
admire  him  so  much,  because  he  is  the  leader  of  the 
Opposition.  What  a  terrible  misfortune  not  to  be  born 

292 


POLITICS   AND  A   PRETTY   WEDDING     293 

under  a  Government  like  that !  For  my  part,  weak 
and  unhappy  creature  that  I  am,  if  I  could  have 
another  incarnation,  I  should  prefer  to  be  the  lowest 
member  of  the  House  of  Commons  rather  than  the 
King  of  Prussia  himself.  Only  the  glory  of  Voltaire 
can  console  me  for  not  being  born  an  Englishwoman. 
.  .  .  Do  you  know  how  he  [Lord  Shelburne]  finds  re- 
pose from  the  fatigues  of  statesmanship?  In  actions 
of  beneficence  worthy  of  a  sovereign,  in  founding 
public  establishments  for  the  education  of  all  the 
tenants  on  his  estates,  in  superintending  every  detail 
regarding  their  instruction  and  well-being.  Such  is 
the  chosen  recreation  of  a  man  only  thirty-four. 
.  .  .  There  is  an  Englishman  worthy  to  have  been 
a  friend  to  that  marvel  and  miracle  of  the  Spanish 
nation  (Mora).  .  .  .  How  widely  different  from  one 
of  our  charming  French  courtiers !  Ah !  Mon- 
tesquieu is  right ;  '  the  Government  makes  the 


man.' 


Perhaps  we  may  scarcely  feel  inclined  to  endorse  this 
conception  of  eighteenth-century  England  as  a  home 
for  political  freedom  and  enlightened  philanthropy. 
Yet  the  mere  fact  that,  to  this  most  intelligent  French- 
woman, an  Opposition  permitted  to  have  a  recognised 
existence,  and  a  landlord  who  built  schools  for  the 
children  of  his  tenantry,  appeared  in  the  light  of  moral 
miracles,  has  a  significance  all  its  own.  It  must  be 
remembered  also  that  her  verdict  on  the  respective 
positions  of  the  two  countries  in  these  matters  is 
substantially  in  agreement  with  that  of  the  most 
competent  contemporary  authorities  on  either  side  of 
the  Channel. 

Lord  Shelburne,  on  his  side,  was  scarcely  less  fas- 
cinated. He  "entreated,  pressed"  her,  as  she  says, 


294  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

to l  pay  him  a  visit  in  England  ;  the  change,  he  thought, 
would  restore  her  health.  Julie  was  deeply  flattered, 
and  half-tempted  by  his  invitation,  but  her  ingrained 
dislike  to  travelling,  which  had  increased  with  increas- 
ing physical  weakness,  prevented  her  from  accepting 
it.  Had  she  done  so,  it  would  have  been  interesting 
to  learn  her  impressions  of  the  Encyclopedic  Utopia. 
Probably  they  would  have  been  of  a  fairly  favourable 
nature,  for  her  knowledge  of  the  language,  and  her 
extreme  adaptability,  no  less  than  the  reputation  for 
decorum  which  she  had  always  (and  up  till  very  re- 
cently deservedly)  enjoyed,  would  almost  certainly 
have  made  her  stay  in  England  a  success. 

To  Turgot,  meanwhile,  as  to  the  one  person  by 
whom  the  condition  of  France  might  be  ameliorated, 
her  eyes  were  eagerly  turned.  Her  letters  are  full  of 
affectionate  concern  for  his  health,  for  he  suffered  from 
frequent  and  dangerous  attacks  of  gout. 

"  I  never  cease  repeating  :  '  God  preserve  him  ! ' ' 
she  writes  to  Condorcet.  "  If  he  is  not  able  to  carry 
out  his  good  purpose,  we  shall  be — not  just  where 
we  were  before,  but — a  thousand  times  worse  off, 
for  we  shall  have  lost  hope,  the  only  comfort  of  the 
unfortunate." 

She  turns  then  to  the  more  concrete  question  of 
Condorcet's  own  interest  and  hopes  that  Turgot  will 
do  something  to  increase  the  salary  attaching  to  his 
post  as  secretary  to  the  Academy  of  Sciences.  It 
ought,  by  rights,  she  says,  to  amount  to  260  pounds, 
an  income  which  would  enable  "  kind  Condorcet  to 
have  soup  and  meat  for  his  dinner  every  day,  and  to 

1  Lord  Shelburne  was  at  this  time  a  widower.  But  there  would  have 
been  no  difficulty  in  providing  a  chaperon  from  among  the  ladies  of  his 
family. 


POLITICS   AND   A   PRETTY   WEDDING     295 

keep  a  carriage,  either  for  calling  on  his  friends  in,  or 
for  lending  to  them." 

Even  from  a  twentieth-century  point  of  view,  this 
suggestion  can  scarcely  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a 
"job,"  for  the  position  of  secretary  entailed  a  consider- 
able amount  of  work,  and  Condorcet's  services  to 
science  were  such  as  entitled  him  to  some  measure  of 
substantial  recognition.  The  truly  remarkable  part 
of  the  matter  is  that  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  while  anxious 
that  Condorcet  should  reap  some  advantage  from  pos- 
sessing, literally,  a  friend  at  Court,  always  rejected  with 
scorn  and  repulsion  the  idea  of  securing  any  such 
advantage  for  herself.  To  the  moral  sense  of  her 
age  it  would  have  seemed  only  lawful  and  right  that 
Turgot  should  supplement  her  meagre  income  by  a 
pension  from  the  royal  treasury.  The  ill-natured 
insinuations  of  enemies,  like  Horace  Walpole  and 
Madame  du  Deffand,  on  this  point,  testify  far  less 
significantly  to  the  general  consensus  of  public  opinion 
than  does  the  blundering  but  well-intentioned  action 
of  Guibert,  who  ventured  to  broach  the  question  of 
a  pension  for  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  to  the 
Comptroller-General  in  person.  Turgot,  whose  con- 
science obliged  him,  as  we  have  seen,  to  preach  the  duty 
of  retrenchment  to  royalty  itself,  and  who  in  his  own 
person  had  practised  it  by  renouncing  a  large  propor- 
tion of  the  emoluments  attaching  to  his  post,  received 
the  suggestion  coldly,  and  the  Colonel  seems  to  have 
been  near  to  a  quarrel  with  him  on  that  account.  He 
admitted  as  much  to  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  who  forth- 
with wrote  in  hot  haste  to  rebuke  his  forwardness  on 
her  behalf,  and  hinder  it  from  proceeding  further. 

"My  dear  friend,  you  are  mad !     You  are  going  to 


296  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

say  things  against  M.  Turgot,  and,  that,  on  my  ac- 
count !  You  are  very  kind,  and  mean  well,  but  you 
are  mistaken  if  you  think  that  poverty  or  material 
well-being  could  have  any  effect  on  my  happiness, 
one  way  or  other." 

Turgot,  she  says,  is  only  acting  honourably,  in  not 
bestowing  public  money  upon  her,  and  Guibert  has 
done  very  wrong  in  troubling  him,  on  her  account,  and 
then  resenting  his  refusal. 

To  a  man  of  Turgot's  character  this  sensitive  self- 
respect  must  have  been  unspeakably  grateful,  and 
it  doubtless  increased  the  confidence  with  which  he 
turned  to  her  for  counsel  and  sympathy  amid  the 
troubles  inevitably  besetting  his  thorny  path  as 
reformer.  The  first  of  these  arose  in  connection  with 
a  subject  which  seems  perennially  destined  to  be  a 
stumbling  block  for  reforming  ministers — the  question 
of  Free  Trade  in  corn.  The  internal  corn  trade 
in  France  was  then  hampered  by  many  vexatious 
restrictions  tending  to  prevent  the  sale  of  grain  out- 
side the  district  in  which  it  was  grown.  Local 
famines  and  local  "corners"  were  the  natural  result, 
and  Turgot,  realising  this,  had,  during  his  years  of 
Intendantship,  succeeded  in  almost  abolishing  these  re- 
strictions so  far  as  his  own  district  was  concerned.  One 
of  his  first  actions  on  becoming  Comptroller-General 
was  to  extend  this  reform  over  the  whole  country  by  a 
decree  enacting  that  "  it  shall  be  free,  to  all  persons  what- 
ever, to  carry  on,  as  it  may  seem  best  to  them,  their 
trade  in  corn  and  flour,  to  sell  and  to  buy  it,  in  what- 
ever places  they  choose  throughout  the  kingdom." 

This  eminently  reasonable  and  beneficent  measure 
did  not,  however,  appeal  to  all  classes  of  the  popula- 


POLITICS   AND  A   PRETTY   WEDDING     297 

tion.  The  merchants,  who,  during  seasons  of  local 
scarcity,  had  been  able  to  obtain  fancy  prices  for  their 
corn,  dreaded  the  results  of  open  competition  with 
other  districts  not  equally  afflicted.  The  dwellers  in 
these  more  favoured  localities  were,  on  their  part, 
alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  having  their  stock  of  home- 
grown provision  diminished  in  order  to  supply  the 
needs  of  other  provinces.  Another  factor  in  the 
problem  is  suggested  by  that  shrewd  young  woman, 
Manon  Phlipon,  who  observes  that  the  people  had 
hitherto  regarded  misery  as  their  inevitable  portion, 
and  that  this  first  dawn  of  hope  had  changed  their 
sullen  acquiescence  into  a  delirious  persuasion  that 
all  things  were  about  at  once  to  become  new.  If  we 
further  consider  that  Turgot,  like  all  reformers,  had 
many  unscrupulous  and  implacable  enemies,  who 
secretly  did  everything  in  their  power  to  foment  the 
popular  agitation,  we  shall  be  less  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  the  so-called  corn  riots1  of  1775. 

They  began  in  the  month  of  April  at  Dijon,  and  \ 
from  that  point  speedily  spread  to  Paris  and  Versailles. 
"  Cheap  bread  "  was  the  cry  of  the  rioters,  and  barns,  , 
warehouses,  and  bakers'  shops    were   the   objects   of 
their  attack,  but  as  they  always  burnt  and  destroyed  f 
instead  of  distributing  the  provisions  therein  contained    \ 
it  was  obvious  that  they  did  not  really  aim  at  lower-  J 
ing  the  price  of  food.     Turgot,  who  clearly  understood 
that  the  disturbance,  so  far  at  least  as  the  ringleaders 
were  concerned,  had  nothing  genuine  about  it,  but  was 
merely  designed  to  bring  odium  upon  his  administra- 
tion, was  firm  in  maintaining  that  no  concessions  must 
be  made  to  the  mob.     The  young  King,  well  meaning 
as  usual,   and  as  usual  painfully  weak,   was  at  first 

1  Guerre  des  farines. 


298  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

alarmed  into  ordering  a  reduction  in  the  market  price 
of  bread,  while  all  the  time  the  spoil  of  mills  and 
provision  shops  was  being  wantonly  thrown  in  the 
gutters  and  trampled  underfoot  by  these  champions 
of  the  poor  man's  loaf.  It  took  less  than  twenty-four 
hours  to  convince  poor  Louis  of  his  folly,  and  he  sent 
in  haste  to  Turgot,  entreating  his  help  in  repairing  it. 
Turgot  came  to  him  at  once,  and  by  firm  and  prompt 
measures  of  repression  soon  succeeded  in  restoring 
tranquillity. 

Every  stage  of  this  unhappy  business  was  watched 
by  Julie  de  Lespinasse  with  the  most  sympathetic 
anxiety. 

"  Our  friend  has  kept  his  head  through  the  storm  " 
(she  writes  to  Condorcet),  "his  courage  and  presence  of 
mind  have  not  forsaken  him  ;  he  has  worked  day  and 
night.  ...  Is  it  not  heart-breaking  to  see  that,  with  a 
King  who  desires  to  do  right,  and  a  minister  who  has 
no  other  thought,  only  evil  is  done,  and  many  people 
are  pleased  to  have  it  so  ? " 

A  few  days  later  : 

"  I  have  been  paralysed  with  terror.  ...  I  was  so 
afraid  his  health  would  give  way.  He  has  indeed 
shown  them  that  he  has  as  much  strength  of  character 
as  genius  and  highmindedness.  ...  I  have  not  been 
to  the  country.  In  the  first  place,  if  I  had  been  there, 
I  should  have  come  back  here  during  these  troubles. 
I  did  not  see  M.  Turgot,  but  I  had  news  of  him  ten 
times  a  day,  and  I  could  not  have  endured  to  be  with- 
out. And  so  the  month  of  May  has  gone  by,  and 
that  was  the  month  when  I  should  have  liked  to 
have  quiet  and  good  air.  Besides,  I  saw  that  M. 

—^•MIHMIMHMMMWIflP  : 


POLITICS   AND  A   PRETTY  WEDDING     299 

d'Alembert  did  not  want  to  lose  me,  though  he  was 
careful  not  to  say  so." 

Again  : 

"His  illness  and  these  last  troubles  must  have 
thrown  him  much  behind  with  his  work.  For  my 
part,  however  much  it  may  have  cost  me,1  I  cannot 
reproach  myself  with  having  robbed  him  of  a  minute. 
I  cannot  understand  how  anybody,  without  absolute 
necessity,  can  worry  a  man  overwhelmed  with 
business." 

The  following  allusion  to  Condorcet's  "  Letters  on 
the  Corn  Trade,"  published  in  defence  of  Turgot  soon 
after  the  riots,  shows  how,  in  spite  of  this  admirable 
self-effacement,  her  counsel  was  sought  and  valued  by 
the  harassed  Comptroller-General. 

"It  is  my  fault,  kind  Condorcet,  that  the  fourth 
and  fifth  letters  were  not  published  a  week  ago.  I 
entreated  M.  Dupont  to  wait  for  the  sixth,  and 
bring  out  all  three  together  ...  and  M.  Turgot 
and  M.  Dupont  were  quite  convinced  by  my 
arguments.  It  would  be  too  long  to  tell  them  to 
you  here,  but  you  must  take  my  word  for  it,  that, 
without  that  sixth  letter,  the  others  would  not  make 
the  impression  or  excite  the  interest  that  they  ought." 

There  is  surely  something  noble  in  this  devotion  to 
impersonal  interests  at  a  time  when  her  whole  being 
was  crushed  beneath  a  sorrow  which  brought  to  its 
climax  all  the  accumulated  tragedy  of  the  preceding 

1  A  few  weeks  later  she  writes  to  Guibert  that  Turgot  has  just  been  to 
see  her.  He  came  at  eleven  in  the  morning  and  stayed  till  one.  They 
had  a  longer  conversation  than  she  has  had  with  him  since  his  accession 
to  the  Comptrollership,  and  she  finds  him  friendly  and  unspoilt  as  ever. 


300  A   STAR    OF  THE   SALONS 

years.  For  the  blow  had  fallen  at  last.  Two  or  three 
days  before  the  outbreak  of  the  Guerre  des  Farines,  a 
contract  of  marriage  was  signed  between  Jacques 
Antoine  Hippolyte,  Count  de  Guibert,  and  Alex- 
andrine Louise  Boutinon  des  Hayes  de  Courcelles. 
The  alliance  had  been  in  contemplation  nearly  two 
years,  and  in  the  summer  of  the  previous  year 
Guibert  had  paid  a  short  visit  of  exploration  to  the 
chateau  of  the  young  lady's  father.  Mademoiselle  de 
Courcelles,  who  was  then  only  sixteen,  and  if  we  may 
trust  to  her  portrait  by  Greuze  a  charmingly  pretty 
girl,  made  an  entirely  pleasing  impression  upon 
the  susceptible  Colonel,  and  she,  on  her  side,  was  as 
much  fascinated  by  him,  as  older  and  more  experi- 
enced women  were  wont  to  be.  The  marriage  there- 
fore, though,  from  the  material  point  of  view,  an 
eminently  satisfactory  one  to  Guibert 1  (for  Mademois- 
elle de  Courcelles  was  "  weel-tochered,"  no  less  than 
"  weel-fa'ured  "),  was  not  without  a  redeeming  element 
of  romance. 

It  was  precisely  this  element,  however,  which  he 
was  most  anxious  to  conceal  from  Julie  de  Les- 
pinasse.  The  problem  of  being  in  love  with  two  or 
more  women  at  the  same  time  presented  no  difficulties 
to  this  accomplished  amorist.  But  the  task  of  ex- 
plaining this  psychological  phenomenon  to  the  ladies 
in  question  proved  sometimes  too  much  even  for  his 
abilities.  We  have  seen  how  sedulously  he  had  re- 
presented his  matrimonial  designs  as  based  entirely 
upon  prudence,  and  irrespective  of  any  woman  in 
particular.  Through  the  winter  of  1774-5  he  had, 

1  About  500  pounds  a  year  seems  to  have  been  her  immediate  dowry,  but 
a  good  deal  of  gratuitous  board  and  lodging,  and  expectations  for  the 
future,  must  be  superadded. 


MADEMOISELLE   DE  COURCELLES,   AFTERWARDS   COMTESSE   DE   GUIBERT 

FROM    A   PAINTING    BY  GREUZE 


POLITICS   AND  A   PRETTY   WEDDING     301 

in  conversation  with  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse, 
allowed  the  subject  so  completely  to  drop  that  she 
half  believed  him  resolved  upon  a  single  life ;  while 
all  the  time  negotiations  were  in  progress,  and  he  was 
losing  no  opportunity  of  paying  his  court  in  person  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Courcelles.  Once  the  betrothal  was 
about  to  be  formally  announced,  however,  it  became 
plainly  impossible  any  longer  to  conceal  the  truth. 
After  a  clumsy  attempt  at  preparation,  which  aroused 
an  agony  of  apprehension  in  his  unhappy  victim,  he 
told  her  of  his  approaching  marriage,  representing  it 
as  entirely  an  affaire  de  convenance,  and  suppressing  the 
fact  that  he  had  anything  more  than  a  formal  acquaint- 
ance with  his  future  bride. 

To  the  forsaken  woman  it  seemed  that  now  indeed 
she  had  received  her  death  blow.  "  If  we  must  cease 
to  love,  then  I  must  cease  to  live ! "  was  the  heart- 
broken cry  which  rose  to  her  lips.  For  I  must  em- 
phasise the  fact  that  she  regarded  Guibert's  marriage 
as  constituting  an  impassable  barrier  between  him 
and  her.  Such  a  point  of  view  was  in  her  time  by 
no  means  universally  recognised,  nor  was  it  shared  by 
Guibert  himself.  The  "  Letters"1  recently  published 
make  it  plain  that — his  honeymoon  once  well  over — 
he  was  anxious  to  renew  their  former  relations,  but  en- 
countered a  resolution  which  he  found  it  impossible 
to  shake.  For  the  short  remainder  of  her  unhappy 
life,  Julie  de  Lespinasse  was  free  from  all  reproach, 
and  we  cannot  but  feel  that  this  determination  not  to 
injure  another  woman  in  some  measure  expiated  her 
former  wrongdoing. 

Her  attitude  towards  her  unconscious  rival  was 
indeed  conspicuously  generous  throughout.  The 
i  By  the  Comte  de  Villeneuve-Guibert. 


302  A   STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 

bitterness  of  her  heart  overflowed  often  enough  in 
reproaches  to  Guibert,  but  of  his  betrothed  she  uni- 
formly speaks  in  terms  of  respect,  and  even  of  kind- 
ness. Once  she  terrified  Guibert  beyond  measure  by 
appearing  unexpectedly  in  his  rooms  on  an  evening 
when  she  knew  that  he  was  to  receive  a  visit  from 
Mademoiselle  de  Courcelles  and  her  mother.  The 
wretched  man  vainly  implored  her  to  withdraw  before 
their  arrival.  She  was  determined  to  see  his  future 
wife,  but  the  scene  which  followed  relieved  him  of  his 
fears.  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  made  herself  as 
delightful  as  only  she  could.  The  girl  was  fascinated 
by  her  charm  of  manner  and  the  caressing  tenderness 
with  which  she  welcomed  the  fiancte  of  an  old  and 
valued  friend.  Next  day,  Julie,  as  if  determined  to 
be  thorough  in  her  great  renunciation,  wrote  to 
Guibert : 

"  I  thought  her  charming,  and  well  deserving  of 
the  interest  you  feel  in  her.  The  manners  and  ap- 
pearance of  her  mother  are  also  most  pleasing  and 
attractive.  Yes,  you  will  be  happy." 

Guibert  was  gratified  and  even  touched  by  this 
magnificent  self-abnegation,  but  he  considered  that 
it  was  scarcely  maintained  with  sufficient  consistency. 
There  was  in  his  opinion  a  want  of  good  taste  about 
such  letters  of  congratulation  as  that  which  he  re- 
ceived after  the  formal  signing  of  his  marriage 
contract. 

"  And  so,  the  sentence  is  signed !  God  grant  it 
may  be  as  decisive  for  your  happiness  as  for  my  death  ! 
.  .  .  Farewell,  may  your  life  be  always  too  full  and 
too  happy  to  leave  room  for  the  remembrance  of  an 
unfortunate  woman  who  loved  you !  " 


POLITICS   AND   A   PRETTY   WEDDING     303 

He  did  not  like  to  think  that  he  was  killing  the 
woman  whom  he  professed  still  to  love,  but  to  be  told 
it  was  really  very  unpleasant.  He  was  so  worried, 
or  so  he  said,  as  to  fall  quite  ill,  and  wrote,  on  this 
score,  a  piteous  appeal  for  forbearance  to  Julie,  who 
replied,  more  coldly  than  was  her  wont  in  such 
cases :  "  Marriage  will  do  marvels  for  you.  Your 
wife  will  insist  on  your  taking  care  of  your  health." 
Altogether,  his  position,  as  we  have  some  satisfaction 
in  reflecting,  was  far  from  comfortable,  and  he  must 
have  rejoiced  when  the  time  came  to  leave  Paris  for 
his  wedding,  which  was  to  take  place  at  the  Chateau 
de  Courcelles.1 

It  was  in  that  loveliest  of  all  seasons,  "  the  marriage 
time  of  May  and  June,"2  that  the  bridal  rites  were 
celebrated.  We  would  fain  have  had  some  account 
of  the  solemnity,  which  must  certainly  have  been  what 
in  modern  phrase  is  known  as  a  "pretty  wedding," 
but  none  such  has  come  down  to  us.  One  are  left  to 
imagine  the  preliminary  calling  of  banns,  with  their 
quaint  formula :  "  There  is  a  promise  of  marriage 
between  the  high  and  puissant  seigneur  Jacques 
Antoine  Hippolyte  de  Guibert,  and  the  high  and 
puissant  demoiselle  Alexandrine  Louise  Boutinon  des 
Hayes  de  Courcelles,  a  minor  of  this  parish "  ;  the 
concourse  of  neighbours  who,  on  the  day  before  the 
ceremony,  flocked  to  admire  the  corbeille,  or  bride- 
groom's gift,  set  out  for  show  as  wedding  presents  are 
now  ;  the  charming  girl-bride,  attired,  as  was  the  wont 
of  fashionable  brides,  in  a  much  <&<?/&// gown  of  silver 
brocade,  with  unveiled  face  but  hair  wreathed  with 
the  traditional  orange  blossoms,  attended  by  the  two 

1  Near  Gien,  in  the  Orleanais. 

2  Emily  Bronte. 


304  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

chevaliers  de  main,  who  performed  the  functions  of 
the  modern  bridesmaid  ;  the  wedding  Mass  ;  and  the 
banquet  which  followed  it.  Yet  one  valuable  memorial 
of  the  occasion  we  do  possess — an  entry  in  the  diary 
of  the  bridegroom.  It  deals,  however,  with  subjects 
more  interesting  to  the  writer  than  any  external  details 
—the  emotions  and  reflections  of  Guibert  himself. 
This  is  what  he  writes  on  the  evening  of  the 
momentous  day. 

"June  ist,  1775. — My  wedding-day,  the  beginning 
of  a  new  life.  Shuddered  involuntarily  during  the 
ceremony.  It  was  my  liberty,  my  whole  life  that  I 
was  risking.  Never  have  so  many  thoughts  and 
feelings  harassed  my  soul.  Oh,  what  an  abyss,  what 
a  labyrinth  is  the  heart  of  man.  I  am  completely 
bewildered  by  the  impulses  of  mine.  But  everything 
promises  me  happiness.  I  am  marrying  a  young, 
pretty,  gentle,  susceptible  woman.  She  loves  me. 
I  feel  that  she  is  made  to  be  loved,  I  love  her  already." 

Not  a  thought  for  the  inexperienced  child  of  seven- 
teen, whose  happiness  must  henceforth  depend  mainly 
on  him.  No  mention  of  the  heartbroken  woman  who, 
far  away  in  Paris,  was  realising,  as  she  afterwards 
bitterly  wrote,  the  despair  which  knows  neither 
words  nor  tears.  Equally  characteristic  is  the  entry 
which  follows. 

"June  ist-6th. — The  days  have  passed  like  a 
dream,  and  such  indeed  is  my  new  condition,  and  the 
love,  the  sweetness,  the  frankness,  the  charm  of  my 
young  wife.  Her  nature  unfolds  itself  to  me  day  by 
day.  I  love  her,  I  shall  continue  to  love  her.  I 
firmly  believe  that  I  shall  be  happy." 


POLITICS   AND  A   PRETTY   WEDDING     305 

Certainly  Giribert  spoke  no  more  than  the  truth 
when  he  wrote  about  this  time  to  Julie  de  Lespinasse, 
in  words  which  roused  her  to  an  inexplicable  fury  of 
resentment  :  "  Do  not  break  your  heart  for  me,  I 
beseech  you.  I  am  not  worthy  of  all  that  you  have 
suffered  for  my  sake." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

TWO    LITERARY    ENTERPRISES 

WHEN  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  declared  that 
Guibert  had  signed  her  sentence  of  death  on 
the  same  day  as  his  marriage  contract  she  spoke 
no  more  than  the  truth.  It  is  extremely  unlikely  that 
she  would,  in  any  circumstances,  have  lived  to  be 
old,  and  the  mental  suffering  of  the  last  few  years  had, 
of  course,  gravely  affected  her  always  fragile  health. 
But  this  final  blow — she  survived  it  barely  a  twelve- 
month— must  certainly  have  hastened  the  end.  In  the 
bitterness  of  her  heart  she  had  likened  this  marriage 
to  a  violent  operation,1  which  must  either  cure  or  kill 
her,  and  at  times  a  wild  hope  seems  to  have  crossed 
her  mind  that  the  first  alternative  might  ensue. 

"So  often  it  seems  to  me  that  scarcely  anything 
more  is  needed  to  deliver  me  from  the  misfortune  of 
loving  you,"  she  writes,  "and  then  I  feel  almost 
ashamed  of  having  made  you  my  principal  interest  in 
life.  But  more  often  I  feel  myself  bound  and  chained 
on  all  sides,  so  that  not  a  movement  is  possible  to  me, 
and  then  death  seems  my  only  refuge  from  you." 

When  the  marriage  is  accomplished,  she  expresses 
herself  in  still  stronger  terms. 

"  Your  marriage  has  brought  me  a  thorough  under- 
standing of  your  character,  and  has  closed  my  heart 

i  In  order  to  realise  the  force  of  this  simile,  we  must  imagine  ourselves 
back  in  the  days  when  chloroform,  antiseptic  dressings,  and  X-rays  were 
unknown,  and  when  surgical  operations  were  still  regarded  with  an  awe 
undiminished  by  excessive  familiarity. 

306 


TWO   LITERARY   ENTERPRISES          307 

against  you  for  ever.  There  was  a  time  when  I  would 
rather  have  seen  you  unhappy  than  contemptible. 
That  time  is  over.  .  .  .  No  doubt  it  will  cost  you 
a  little  to  be  no  longer  the  first  and  only  object  of 
a  restless,  impassioned  nature,  which  brings,  if  not 
interest,  at  least  excitement  into  your  life.  ...  I  un- 
derstand what  you  are  at  last.  I  see  that  you  have 
degraded  yourself  for  500  pounds  a  year.  I  see  that 
you  did  not  mind  reducing  me  to  despair,  and  that 
you  only  looked  on  me  as  a  makeshift  till  your 
marriage  was  arranged." 

Had  her  physical  condition  been  more  favourable 
she  might,  perhaps,  even  now,  have  succeeded  in  living 
down  the  past.  But  she  was  too  weak,  and  the  poison 
had  sunk  too  deeply  into  her  nature.  For  years  past 
she  had  suffered  from  insomnia,  but  now  sleep  seemed 
banished  for  ever.  If,  from  mere  exhaustion,  she  lost 
consciousness  for  a  few  minutes,  she  wakened  again 
with  a  start  to  the  recollection  that  Guibert  had  for- 
saken her.  Her  frail  body  was  repeatedly  shaken  by 
convulsions  of  terrible  violence,  the  effect,  as  she  says, 
"of  despair." 

"  M.  d'Alembert  was  frightened,"  she  says  of  one 
such  attack,  "and  I  had  not  enough  presence  of  mind 
left  to  reassure  him.  His  anxiety  wrung  my  heart 
and  I  burst  into  tears.  I  could  not  speak,  and  he 
says  that  in  my  distraction  I  twice  repeated  :  '  I  am 
dying.  Leave  me  alone.'  At  these  words  he  was 
much  upset,  he  shed  tears  and  wanted  to  go  and  fetch 
my  friends." 

With  his  usual  inconceivable  tactlessness,  poor 
d'Alembert  regretted  the  absence  of  Guibert.  "  He 
could  have  consoled  you.  You  have  been  more  un- 


•3o8  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

happy  than  ever  since  he  left  Paris." l  The  name  had 
a  tonic  effect.  "  I  felt  that  I  must  control  myself," 
she  proceeds,  "so  as  not  to  break  this  excellent 
man's  heart.  I  made  an  effort,  and  told  him  that  I 
had  had  an  attack  of  nerves  in  addition  to  my  usual 
pain,  and  in  fact,  one  hand  and  arm  were  all  twisted 
and  bent.  I  took  a  sedative ;  he  had  sent  for  a 
doctor ;  to  escape  having  to  see  him,  I  collected  all 
the  strength  and  reason  that  were  left  to  me,  and 
shut  myself  up  in  my  room." 

It  would  even  seem  that  the  balance  of  her  mind 
had  been  disturbed  by  excessive  suffering,  for  she 
found  her  principal  consolation  in  holding  converse, 
by  word  and  letter,  with  the  generous  spirit  which 
over  a  year  before  had  quitted  this  world  for  ever. 
She  had  no  clear  belief  in  another  life,  no  steadfast 
hope  of  future  reunion.  Once,  indeed,2  she  piteously 
regrets  that  she  is  not,  like  a  new-made  widow  of  her 
acquaintance,  supported  by  "this  chimera."  But 
imagination  sometimes  supplied  the  part  of  faith, 
and  Mora  then  seemed  again  living  and  at  her  side. 

"I  see  him,"  she  writes  to  Guibert,  "he  lives,  he 
breathes  for  me,  he  hears  me.  .  .  .  You  are  not 
more  real  to  me  than  M.  de  Mora  has  been  for  an 
hour  past.  Oh,  divine  being,  he  has  pardoned  me, 
he  loved  me." 

It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  her  in- 
tellectual powers  were,  in  ordinary  matters,  at  all 
impaired.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems  as  if  her  per- 
ception had  never  been  quicker  or  her  judgment  saner 
than  during  this  last  agonising  year.  That  she  made 

1  i.e.  to  be  married. 

2  "  Ah,  if  I  could  have  the  same  chimera  as  Madame  de  Muy !     I 
should  think  I  had  recovered  my  happiness.     She  is  sure  that  she  will 
see  M.  de  Muy  again.     What  a  rock  of  consolation  for  a  desolate  soul ! " 


TWO   LITERARY   ENTERPRISES          309 

continual  efforts  to  shake  off  the  incubus  which  was 
crushing  her,  and  attain  to  a  healthier  frame  of  mind, 
is  plainly  shown  by  the  energy  with  which,  despite 
great  bodily  weakness,  she  at  this  time  threw  herself 
into  external  activities  of  every  kind.  Her  eager 
interest  in  the  Guerre  des  Farines  has  already  been 
noticed,  and  in  the  letters  to  Guibert  she  continually 
alludes  to  other  distractions,  social  and  intellectual  no 
less  than  political. 

"  I  have  laid  down  a  rule  for  myself,"  she  says, 
"to  which  I  have  been  tolerably  faithful,  and  which 
answers  well  enough.  I  lead  a  more  social  life.  I 
am  always  surrounded  by  people  who  love  and 
value  me,  though  not  because  I  deserve  it.  ... 
They  rescue  me,  so  to  speak,  from  my  grief,  by  never 
leaving  me  a  moment  to  myself."  And  again  :  "  I  am 
going  to  use  all  the  strength  I  have  left  me,  to  make 
the  time  hang  less  heavily.  This  afternoon,  I  have 
already  engaged  myself  for  five  or  six  things  which 
are  all  more  than  indifferent  to  me,  but  all  in  the 
company  of  people  who  care  for  me  a  little,  and 
that  will  give  me  courage.  To-morrow,  I  am  going 
to  Auteuil,1  on  Friday  to  Passy,  to  hear  that  famous 
prima  donna  who  was  here  last  year,  and  who,  they 
say,  has  such  a  lovely  voice,  and  is  at  the  same 
time  such  a  perfect  fool.  That  is  a  pleasure  I  could 
have  enjoyed,  if  my  mind  had  been  more  tranquil." 

In  the  same  letter  she  speaks  of  Turgot  and 
Malesherbes  (now  also  a  minister),  of  their  schemes 
for  reform,  and  the  confidence  which  they  both  repose 
in  her,  adding  pathetically:  "But  this  may  look  like 
boasting,  and  there  is  no  great  pleasure  in  vanity, 
when  one  is  dying  of  sorrow." 

1  Probably  to  visit  the  Comtesse  de  Boufflers. 


3io  A    STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

Yet  the  very  fact  that  she  felt  irresistibly  impelled 
to  render  an  account  of  every  occupation  and  every 
phase  of  feeling,  to  the  man  whom  she  now  professed 
(and  perhaps  truly)  to  despise,  shows  but  too  plainly 
how  far  he  was  from  having  lost  his  hold  upon  her. 
The  habit  of  turning  to  him  for  sympathy  was  so 
deeply  rooted  that,  in  her  weakened  condition,  she 
was  powerless  to  eradicate  it.  "I  have  seen  and 
heard  so  many  things  since  your  departure,"  she 
says,  "and  I  kept  saying  to  myself:  'All  this  would 
be  full  of  life  and  interest  for  me,  if  I  could  share  it 
with  him,  but  since  I  must  hold  no  communication 
with  him,  it  is  not  worth  the  trouble  of  listening." 
She  was  unshaken  in  her  resolution  that  they  must 
not  meet  again  as  lovers — a  resolution  which  Guibert, 
being  just  then,  as  became  a  newly  married  man,  in 
a  momentary  paroxysm  of  virtue,  highly  applauded. 
But  to  abandon  the  idea  of  meeting  a^ain  as  friends 

o        o 

was  a  renunciation  totally  beyond  her  power. 

As  a  friend,  therefore,  she  set  herself  to  serve 
Guibert.  An  opportunity  of  doing  so  lay  ready  to 
her  hand,  provided  by  the  gentleman  in  question, 
who  seemed  to  think,  and,  as  the  event  proved,  not 
altogether  wrongly,  that  the  kindest  thing  he  could 
do  for  her  (as  well  as  for  himself)  was  to  supply  her 
with  an  occupation  which  had  his  interest  for  object. 
The  literary  ambitions  of  Guibert  had  been  naturally 
raised  to  a  high  pitch  by  the  extraordinary  success  of 
his  Essay  on  Tactics,  and  were  by  no  means  limited 
to  military  subjects.  He  had  already  written  one 
tragedy,  of  which  we  shall  presently  hear  more,  and 
was  now  at  work  upon  a  second.  But,  like  a  true 
Frenchman,  he  felt  that,  until  he  had  obtained  the 
benediction  of  the  national  high  court  of  letters,  some- 


TWO   LITERARY   ENTERPRISES          311 

thing  was  lacking  to  his  fame.  For  at  least  a  twelve- 
month past  he  had  had  upon  the  stocks  an  essay  in 
praise  of  Catinat,  the  celebrated  general  of  Louis 
XIV.,  that  being  the  subject  fixed  for  the  Academy 
competition  of  1775.  Julie  de  Lespinasse  had  long 
been  in  his  confidence  with  regard  to  this  project,  and 
had  promised  him  every  assistance  in  carrying  it  out 
— no  empty  promise  from  a  person  who  was  commonly 
reputed  to  have  the  making  of  Academicians  in  her 
hands,1  and  might  naturally  be  supposed  to  possess 
some  influence  in  such  a  minor  matter  as  the  award- 
ing of  a  prize.  The  "  eulogium  "  was  completed  about 
the  time  of  Guibert's  marriage,  and  almost  his  first 
communication  with  Julie  after  that  event  was  for 
the  purpose  of  enclosing  the  precious  MS.  The  pro- 
ceeding scarcely  strikes  one  as  being  distinguished 
by  delicacy,  but  the  effect  seems  to  have  been  rather 
beneficial  than  otherwise.  Feeling  the  demand  made 
upon  her  magnanimity,  she  determined  to  respond  to 
it  worthily ;  and  besides,  the  tension  of  her  feelings 
found  relief  in  the  task,  to  her  always  a  congenial  one, 
of  literary  criticism. 

Her  judgment  on  "Catinat"  is  indeed  remarkable, 
as  her  judgments  on  literature  always  are,  for  justice 
and  frankness.  At  this  distance  of  time  her  estimate 
of  Guibert's  abilities  certainly  does  appear  an  ex- 
travagantly high  one,  but  M.  de  Se"gur  has  pointed 
out  that  in  this  respect  she  fell  far  short  of  the  bulk 
of  her  contemporaries,  and,  so  far  from  being  misled 
by  partiality,  was  almost  the  only  person  who  then 
realised,  or  at  least  endeavoured  to  correct,  the  literary 
deficiencies  of  this  brilliant  popular  idol.  She  com- 

1  She  herself  admits  to  having,  by  her  zealous  canvassing,  procured  this 
distinction  for  the  Chevalier  de  Chastellux. 


312  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

pares  his  eulogium  with  that  of  La  Harpe1  which 
had  been  likewise  confided  to  her  by  the  author — 
the  only  one  of  the  other  fourteen  competitors  who 
seemed  to  her  at  all  formidable.  She  observes,  with 
much  apparent  justice,  that  Guibert's  technical  know- 
ledge gives  him  a  great  advantage  so  far  as  regards 
the  purely  military  aspect  of  the  theme.  In  point  of 
style,  however,  La  Harpe  is  most  approved  by  her 
of  the  two.  Guibert,  she  says,  does  not  always  write 
clearly,  and  uses  expressions  which  are  either  eccentric 
or  too  familiar,  but,  for  all  that,  he  has  more  power  and 
more  inspiration  than  his  rival,  and,  on  the  whole,  he 
seems  to  her  most  worthy  of  the  prize. 

Yet,  despite  all  her  tactful  wirepulling,  the  contest 
between  these  rival  litterateurs  (of  whom  one  is  now 
barely  remembered,  and  the  other,  save  for  his 
sasociation  with  herself,  wholly  forgotten)  was  not 
decided  as  she  hoped.  When  Saint  Lambert,  one  of 
the  Academicians  on  whose  support  she  had  counted, 
announced  to  her  that  he  preferred  La  Harpe's  essay, 
and  must  vote  for  it,  she  is  said  to  have  burst  into 
tears.  When  the  fatal  decision  had  been  arrived  at, 
and  she  learnt  that  the  first  prize  had  been  awarded 
to  La  Harpe,  and  that  Guibert  had  only  an  honourable 
mention,  and  was  not  alone  even  in  that  dubious  con- 
solation, her  resentment  broke  hotly  forth. 

''If  Voltaire  had  competed  and  they  had  given  you 
the  honourable  mention,  it  would  have  been  all  right. 
But  for  you  to  come  after  M.  de  la  Harpe,  and 
to  be  bracketed  with  a  young  man  of  twenty,  revolts 

1  In  view  of  a  recent  controversy  the  following  rebuke  written  by  her  to 
Guibert  is  worth  notice  : — "You  must  call  him  M.  de  La  Harpe,  and  not 
simply  la  Harpe.  That  is  an  honour  only  due  to  men  like  Racine, 
Voltaire,  etc.,  and  must  not  be  conferred  on  a  litterateur  of  our  own  day." 


TWO   LITERARY   ENTERPRISES          313 

me  to  a  degree  which  I  cannot  express,  and  have  been 
unable  to  conceal.  It  hurts  my  pride,  and  makes  me 
unjust,  for  I  feel  almost  ready  to  hate  the  man l  who 
has  been  preferred  to  you." 

Madame  Roland,  then  Mademoiselle  Phlipon, 
chanced  this  particular  year  to  be  present  at  the 
grand  assembly  held  annually  at  the  Louvre 2  by  the 
Academy,  on  St  Louis'  Day  (25th  August),  and  has 
left  us  a  vivid  account  of  the  proceedings.  They 
began  with  a  musical  Mass,  chanted  by  opera  singers, 
in  what  was  known  as  the  Academy  Chapel.  The 
sermon,  as  was  usual  -on  this  day,  took  the  form  of  a 
panegyric  on  the  sainted  king,  but  the  preacher,  a 
certain  Abbe  de  Besflas,  with  leanings  to  the  philo- 
sophic party,  obtained  a  succes  de  scandale  by  intro- 
ducing sundry  sly  hits  at  monarchical  government  as 
understood  in  France  in  the  eighteenth  century.  After 
a  morning  thus  spent,  the  audience  separated,  pre- 
sumably for  dinner,  reassembling  in  the  afternoon 
for  the  reading  of  the  prize  essay,  and  the  delivery 
of  d'Alembert's  yearly  address.  Manon  considered 
La  Harpe's  production  excellent,  but  the  secretary's 
witty  and  eloquent  oration,  though  yearly  looked 
forward  to  in  Paris  as  a  social  event  of  the  first 
importance,  was  to  her  rather  a  disappointment,  for 
the  speaker's  unfortunate  voice  and  face  prevented 
her  from  enjoying  his  periods.  The  audience  was  ex- 
tremely brilliant,  comprising  all  the  fashionable  tlite 
of  both  sexes.  Frenchwomen,  in  those  days,  took 

1  Yet  this  resentment  did  not  prevent  her  from  promoting  the  election 
of  La  Harpe,  of  whose  writings  she  generally  speaks  with  approval,  to 
the  Academy  in  the  following  year. 

2  What  is  now  the  Institute  was  then,  as  has  been  already  remarked, 
the  College  des  Quatre  Nations. 


314  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

a  keen  interest  in  the  Academy  and,  considering  the 
prejudices  of  the  time,  it  cannot  be  alleged  that  the 
Academy  was  ungenerous  in  its  attitude  towards  them. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  enormous  influence  exercised 
by  such  ladies  as  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  and 
Madame  de  Lambert  in  the  election  of  members, 
women  were  allowed  to  take  part  in  the  literary  com- 
petitions, and  not  infrequently  did  so,  though  I  do 
not  know  that  any  lady  had  as  yet  obtained  a  prize. 
Nor  was  this  all,  for,  if  we  are  to  believe  that  rather 
doubtful  authority,  Madame  de  Genlis,  d'Alembert 
was  at  this  time  revolving  in  his  mind  the  possibility 
of  an  innovation  which,  after  a  hundred  and  forty 
years  still  remains  to  be  accomplished — the  admission, 
namely,  of  women  within  the  sacred  circle  of  the 
"  Immortals."  According  to  her,  he  designed  to 
propose  the  creation  of  four  supplemental-}7  places, 
for  ladies  only,  and  had  already  fixed  upon  the  first 
occupants  thereof.  She,  Madame  de  Genlis,  was  to 
hold  the  highest  rank  among  them  ;  the  other  three 
were  to  be  Madame  de  Montesson,  a  lady  who  had 
written  plays  of  sorts,  and  made  a  great  marriage, 
Madame  d'Houdetot,  beloved  of  Rousseau,  and  author 
of  some  exceedingly  licentious  poems,  and  Madame 
d'Angivillier,  the  mistress  of  a  literary  salon. 

St  Louis'  Day  was  altogether  a  notable  epoch  in 
the  fashionable  Parisian  calendar,  for  it  marked  yet 
another  fixture  of  high  import — the  opening  of  the 
triennial  exhibition  held  by  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Painting  and  Sculpture.  This  function,  which  dated 
back  to  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  took  place  likewise 
at  the  Louvre.  The  room  set  apart  for  this  purpose, 
which  was  situated  not  far  from  the  Gallery  of  Apollo, 
was  known  as  the  Salon,  a  name  ever  since  inseparably 


TWO   LITERARY   ENTERPRISES          315 

attached  to  similar  exhibitions  in  Paris.  During  the 
ten  years  spent  by  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  under 
Madame  du  Deffand's  roof,  the  Salon  had,  through  the 
influence  of  Greuze,  sustained  an  appreciable  part  in 
the  new  propaganda  of  sympathy  for  the  less  favoured 
classes  of  society.  His  pictures  of  peasant  life,  im- 
possible as  they  are,  in  their  prettiness,  sentimentality, 
and  refinement,  had  yet  a  humanising  effect.  His 
"  Father  of  a  Family  reading  the  Bible  to  his  Children," 
a  very  Frenchified  version  of  "The  Cottar's  Saturday 
Night,"  which  was  exhibited  at  the  Salon  of  1755, 
created  a  perfect  furore,  and  the  popular  enthusiasm 
continued  steadily  to  rise,  till  it  reached  its  climax  on 
the  appearance,  in  1761,  of  his  "Village  Bride."1 

By  1775,  however,  the  cult  of  "sensibility"  was, 
owing  mainly  to  the  powerful  agency  of  Rousseau, 
pretty  firmly  established,  and  visitors  to  the  Salon 
had  leisure  for  the  discussion  of  exhibits  distinguished 
by  no  particular  moral  purpose.  Among  the  most 
popular  pictures  of  the  year  we  may  mention  "  Scenes 
in  the  Seraglio,"  by  Vanloo  ;  two  landscapes  by  Vernet, 
and  the  portraits  of  Louis  XVI.  and  of  Gluck,  by 
Duplessis.  In  the  department  of  sculpture,  much 
attention  was  awarded  to  the  busts  of  Turgot  and  of 
Sophie  Arnould  (as  Iphige"nie)  by  Houdon. 

Julie  de  Lespinasse,  as  became  a  leader  of  society, 
did  not  fail  to  visit  the  Salon  within  two  or  three  days 
of  its  opening.  She  was  anxious  that  Guibert  should 
make  one  of  her  party  on  the  occasion  ;  for  Guibert, 
with  his  wife  and  her  parents,  was  now  once  more  in 
Paris.  The  first  week  after  his  marriage  had  been 
passed  at  Courcelles  (honeymoon  trips,  though  not 
quite  unknown,  were  far  from  being  an  established 

1  Both  these  pictures  can  now  be  seen  in  the  Louvre. 


316  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

fashion),  but  he  had  then  been  obliged  by  military 
duty  to  leave  his  young  bride  for  a  while.  Now,  how- 
ever, he  had  obtained  leave  of  absence,  and  was  in 
Paris  on  business  connected  with  a  play  of  his  writing 
already  alluded  to.  That  he  did  not  accept  Julie's 
invitation  may  have  been  due  either  to  the  claims  of 
this  business  or  to  the  knowledge  that  his  wife  and 
her  mother  had  fixed  on  the  same  day  for  visiting  the 
Salon.  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  while  wander- 
ing with  her  friends  from  picture  to  picture,  caught 
sight  of  the  young  girl,  and  at  once  approached  her 
with  the  utmost  courtesy. 

"  Believe  me  or  not,  as  you  please,"  she  writes,  with 
a  touch  of  pathetic  humour,  to  Guibert,  "but  it  is  a 
fact  that  I  have  spent  a  long  time  to-day  with  your 
wife.1  I  went  up  to  her  and  talked  to  her  about  her 
health,  and  her  pursuits,  and  about  all  the  pictures, 
and  I  will  venture  to  say  you  will  be  told  I  am  very 
nice,  and  won't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Do  you  realise 
what  I  am  growing  into,  and  the  light  in  which  you 
must  accustom  yourself  to  regard  me  ?  I  am  really 
good  enough  to  be  Grandison's  wife  or  sister.  I  am 
growing  so  perfect  that  it  frightens  me.  I  believe  I 
am  like  the  swan,  who  sings  best  when  he  is  dying. 
Well,  even  that  is  something  gained.  You  will  say 
'  What  a  pity  she  died  just  now ! ' 

Guibert,  meanwhile,  was  absorbed  in  an  under- 
taking which  promised  to  indemnify  him  for  his 
academical  disappointment,  the  representation  of  his 
tragedy,  Le  Conne'table  de  Bourbon,  before  the  Court  at 
Versailles.  The  piece  in  question,  founded  upon  the 
well-known  story  of  Bourbon's  revolt  against  Francis 

i  Madame,  votre  femme.     This  more  ceremonious  form  is  of  course 
untranslatable. 


TWO    LITERARY   ENTERPRISES          317 

the  First,  is  pronounced  by  so  competent  an  authority 
as  the  Marquis  de  Se"gur  to  possess  a  certain  amount 
of  merit.  The  present  writer  must  confess  to  finding 
it  very  poor  stuff  indeed.  But  it  was  highly  admired 
by  Guibert's  contemporaries,  and  even  Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse,  fastidious  critic  though  she  was,  on 
the  whole  endorsed  the  popular  verdict — with  this 
reservation,  that  she  did  not  consider  Z>  Countable 
adapted  to  the  stage.  The  correctness  of  her  judg- 
ment was  sufficiently  demonstrated  by  results.  So 
long  as  Guibert  contented  himself  with  reading  his 
play  aloud  to  fashionable  audiences  in  one  great  house 
after  another  it  had  a  tremendous  success.  Its  fame 
even  reached  the  ears  of  the  young  Queen  ;  Guibert 
was  honoured  with  a  royal  command  to  give  a  read- 
ing at  Versailles,  and  Marie  Antoinette,  charmed  by 
the  reading  and  the  reader,  and  also,  it  is  said,  by  the 
young  Comtesse  de  Guibert,  determined,  in  her  im- 
pulsive fashion,  to  have  the  play  acted  in  honour  of 
an  approaching  marriage  in  the  royal  family. 

The  author  was,  naturally  enough,  intoxicated  by  so 
high  a  distinction.  But  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse, 
though  deeply  sympathetic,  was  unable  to  disguise  her 
fears  for  the  result.  She  was  so  nervous  that  she  could 
not  make  up  her  mind  to  use  the  ticket  for  the  per- 
formance sent  her  by  Guibert. 

"  No,  I  shall  not  go,"  she  writes.  ..."  I  shall  take 
the  keenest  interest  in  your  success.  ...  At  five 
o'clock,  when  the  Connttable  begins,  I  shall  imitate  a 
prophet,  whose  name  I  forget,1  who  held  his  arms  raised 
to  heaven,  while  Joshua  fought." 

*  *  Forgetfulness  on  such  a  point  seems  strange  to  those  nurtured  in 
the  Protestant  tradition,  but  similar  instances  occur  frequently  amongst 
even  the  most  highly  educated  Frenchmen. 


3i 8  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

On  the  2Oth  of  August  the  piece  was  produced,  re- 
gardless of  expense,  the  actors  being  drawn  from  the 
staff  of  the  Comedie  Franchise,  while  the  military  music 
performed  between  the  acts  was  specially  composed 
by  the  royal  capellmeister.  The  audience  included,  of 
course,  all  the  most  assiduous  habitues  of  the  Court, 
but  also  many  persons  holding  a  much  less  dignified 
position.  The  habitual  mingling  of  all  social  ranks 
and  degrees  within  the  royal  precincts  is,  indeed,  a 
most  curious  feature  of  an  absolute,  as  contrasted  with 
a  constitutional,  monarchy.  Presentation  at  Court  was 
a  privilege  fenced  round  by  all  manner  of  restrictions 
and  observances.  But  everybody,  not  absolutely  in 
rags,  had  the  right,  whether  presented  or  not,  of  using 
the  park  at  Versailles  as  a  public  promenade.1  Not 
only  so,  but  they  could  enter  the  palace  at  will,  and 
wander,  almost  unchecked,  over  the  stately  halls  and 
staircases,  and  even  press  their  way,  as  spectators,  to 
the  apartment  where  royalty  was  consuming  its  meals. 
It  is  highly  improbable,  for  example,  that  Mademoi- 
selle de  Lespinasse  had  been  presented.  Her  birth 
would  certainly  have  been  an  obstacle,  and  it  does  not 
appear  that  she  ever  came  personally  into  contact 
with  any  of  the  royal  family.  Yet  in  her  letters  she 
repeatedly  speaks  of  driving,  in  the  carriage  of  some 
friend  or  other,  to  Versailles. 

To  those  persons  of  humbler  position  who,  on  the 
strength  of  acquaintanceship  with  Guibert  or  otherwise, 
had  obtained  tickets  for  the  Constable,  the  spectacle 
presented  by  the  auditorium  must  have  seemed  deserv- 
ing of,  at  least,  as  much  attention  as  that  upon  the 

1  The  royal  family  had  not  so  much  as  a  flower  garden  for  its  own 
private  enjoyment.  Hence  Marie  Antoinette's  passion  for  the  more  re- 
tired Petit  Trianon. 


TWO   LITERARY   ENTERPRISES          319 

stage.  Public  curiosity  is  always  strongly  excited  by 
the  inauguration  of  a  new  reign,  and  in  this  case  the 
changes  resulting  therefrom  had  been  of  an  unusually 
marked  description.  Under  the  genial  sway  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  the  French  Court,  released  from  the  severe 
discipline  of  etiquette  enforced  by  previous  sovereigns, 
had  been,  says  Taine,  transformed  into  the  brightest 
and  gayest  of  salons.1  So  far  as  dress,  indeed,  was 
concerned  that  change  to  a  more  natural  and  more 
becoming  fashion  generally  associated  with  the  name  of 
the  ill-fated  Queen,  and  familiar  to  us  from  the  graceful 
portraits  of  Madame  Vigee  Lebrun,  had  not  yet  set  in. 
Wasp  waists,  portentous  crinolines,  and  what  Made- 
moiselle de  Lespinasse  calls  "pagoda"  coiffures,  were 
still  almost  universal.  In  fact,  these  last  erections  had 
now  attained  to  that  highest  pitch  of  absurdity  which 
preceded  their  downfall,  and  landscapes,  gardens,  and 
"sentimental"  scenes  (the  last  produced  with  the  assist- 
ance of  tiny  figures  in  cardboard)  might  be  admired  upon 
the  heads  of  ladies  aspiring  to  lead  the  van  of  fashion.2 
As  regards  the  relaxation  of  the  old  stringent 
etiquette,  however,  it  was  sufficiently  demonstrated 
by  one  significant  detail.  It  had  formerly  been  an 
inviolable  law  that  theatrical  performances  at  Court 
must  be  received  in  icy  silence ;  applause  being  con- 
sidered an  infringement  of  the  respect  due  to  royalty. 
Marie  Antoinette,  refusing  to  be  bound  by  this  rule, 
applauded,  in  impulsive  girlish  fashion,  the  passages 
which  took  her  fancy,  and  her  example  had,  naturally, 

1  The  change  to  "  simplicity ?z  dates,  roughly,  from  1780. 

2  The  classical  instance  is  the  "Coiffure  a  La  Belle  Poule,"  which, 
however,  dates  only  from  1778.     It  was  so  called  from  the  name  of  a 
famous  man-of-war,  and  represented  a  ship  in  full  sail,  with  guns  and 
sailors  complete.     This  was  accomplished  by  arranging  the  hair  over 
a  frame  made  in  the  requisite  shape. 


320  A    STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

many  imitators.  Guibert  and  his  supporters  were,  of 
course,  highly  flattered,  but  they  could  not  disguise 
from  themselves  that,  despite  this  mark  of  favour,  the 
play  was  by  no  means  an  unmitigated  success.  The 
King  was  far  from  sharing  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
consort.  Much  to  his  honour,  he  had  been  deeply 
impressed  by  Turgot's  admonitions  on  the  necessity  of 
retrenchment,  and,  though  he  could  not  bear  to  oppose 
any  wish  of  the  Queen's,  the  lavish  expenditure  with 
which  the  Countable  was  staged  caused  him  real 
distress.  The  theme,  besides,  of  the  piece,  the  treason 
of  a  French  general  against  a  French  sovereign, 
struck  him,  not  unreasonably,  as  ill  suited  for  a  Court 
performance.  To  crown  all,  the  Royal  House  of 
Savoy,  to  which  belonged  the  bridegroom  in  whose 
honour  the  spectacle  had  been  intended,  was  repre- 
sented as  having  played  an  unworthy  part  in  inducing 
the  Constable's  defection.  For  all  these  reasons 
Louis  did  not  join  in  the  applause,  but  looked  on  with 
an  expression  of  something  approaching  to  sullenness 
on  his  good-natured  though  apathetic  countenance, 
and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  a  large  portion  of  the 
audience  was  emboldened  to  hint  their  disapproval 
in  similar  fashion. 

From  a  purely  artistic  point  of  view  the  result  was 
very  much  as  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  had  fore- 
seen. The  Constable  proved  a  difficult  play  to  act, 
and  Lekain,  who  appeared  in  the  title  role,  gave 
but  a  feeble  interpretation  of  Guibert's  hero — though 
he  had  the  grace  to  apologise  for  his  lukewarmness 
on  the  score  of  indisposition. 

Meanwhile,  Julie,  installed  on  a  sofa  in  the  room 
of  a  sick  friend *  who  had  desired  her  company,  kept 
1  Madame  de  Saint  Chamans. 


MARIK   ANTOINETTE 

FROM    A   BUST 


TWO   LITERARY   ENTERPRISES  321 

repeating,  as  she  says,  the  question  of  Bluebeard's 
imprudent  wife  :  "Sister  Anne,  sister  Anne,  do  you 
see  anyone  coming?"  The  "anyone"  in  this  case 
was  d'Alembert,  who  had  been  to  the  performance, 
and  who  was  to  bring  her  news  of  its  good  or  ill 
success  before  she  could  attempt  to  sleep.  About 
midnight  he  appeared,  and,  if  we  are  to  believe  her 
account  to  Guibert,  his  version  of  what  had  occurred 
was  entirely  couleur  de  rose.  "The  success  was  so 
great  that  all  rules  were  broken  through.  The 
splendid  scene  in  the  third  act  was  applauded." 

That  this  optimistic  view  was  only  assumed  out 
of  consideration  for  the  author  is  plainly  shown  by 
the  earnestness  with  which  she  afterwards  endeavoured 
to  dissuade  him  from  having  his  piece  acted  a  second 
time,  and  for  a  wider  public.  He  would  not  be  ad- 
vised, however,  and  the  undertaking  proved — as  she 
had  foretold — a  dead  failure.  To  do  him  justice, 
he  took  this  bitter  lesson  in  good  part,  and  though 
he  wrote  two  other  plays  never  attempted  to  have 
either  of  them  produced  upon  the  stage. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

REQUIESCAT 

TT  was  once  a  theory  in  general  acceptation,  if  not 
•*•  by  physiologists,  yet  certainly  by  novelists,  that  dis- 
appointed lovers,  especially  where  belonging  to  the 
weaker  sex,  almost  invariably  died  of  consumption. 
The  death  of  Julie  de  Lespinasse  may  perhaps  be 
regarded  as  a  confirmation  of  this  remarkable 
empirical  law.  For  at  least  four  years  she  had 
certainly  been  afflicted  with  an  almost  perpetual  and 
very  wearing  cough,  not  supposed  at  first  to  be 
actually  dangerous,  but  afterwards  giving  ground  for 
much  apprehension  ;  yet  so  vague  is  the  language 
used  by  herself  and  her  friends  that  we  are  left  in 
doubt  whether  lung  disease  was  the  immediate  cause 
of  her  death.  It  would  seem  that  she  rather  suc- 
cumbed to  a  complication  of  disorders,  most  of  them 
of  long  standing,  against  which  she  had  now  lost  the 
will  and  courage  to  struggle.  The  agonising  nervous 
affections  from  which  she  suffered  have  already  been 
noticed.  She  was  besides  liable  to  terrible  fits  of 
suffocation,  following  on  convulsions  of  coughing, 
and  bringing  her,  as  she  said,  to  the  very  verge  of 
death. 

"  The  terror   which    it    caused    my  maid  made  me 
think  that  death   must   indeed    be   a   fearful   thing," 

o 7 

she  writes  of  one  such  attack.  "  She  looked  horror- 
struck,  and  as  soon  as  I  was  able  to  speak  I  asked 
her  what  was  wrong.  She  could  only  answer :  '  I 

322 


REQUIESCAT  323 

thought  you  were  going  to  die/  for  she  is  too  much 
accustomed  to  see  me  suffering,  to  be  alarmed  merely 
by  that." 

We  constantly  hear  moreover  of  severe  internal 
troubles,  concerning  which  it  is  proper  to  mention 
that  she  expresses  herself  with  a  degree  of  reserve 
less  certainly  than  is  now  usual,  yet  very  rare  in 
Frenchwomen  of  her  generation.  To  all  this  we 
must  add  perpetual  fever  and  sleeplessness,  and  the 
effects  of  that  deadly  drug  to  which  she  had,  more 
and  more  frequently,  recourse.  And  now  that  all 
hope  and  motive  in  life  seemed  withdrawn  from 
her  there  ensued  an  ever-increasing  weakness  and  an 
emaciation  by  which  her  friends  were  in  the  highest 
degree  alarmed.  Naturally,  they  urged  upon  her  the 
necessity  of  seeking  medical  advice,  but  to  this  she 
was  exceedingly  averse — and,  as  it  appears  to  us, 
with  good  reason.  It  has  been  already  observed  that 
the  recognised  treatment  of  consumptive  suspects, 
amongst  whom  she  must  probably  be  numbered,  had 
two  distinctive  features.  Diet  (i.e.  semi-starvation) 
was  one  of  these ;  and  Julie,  hitherto  so  indifferent 
on  the  score  of  good  living,1  had  begun  at  times  to 
feel  that  abnormal  craving  for  food  which  seems  to 
be  Nature's  last  desperate  attempt  to  repair  the 
strength  wasted  by  disease.  Bleeding  was  the  other  ; 
and  here  she  had  fresh  in  memory  the  example  of 
Mora,  who  during  one  attack  of  haemorrhage  was  bled 

1  "  Just  fancy  that  the  keenest  interest  of  my  day  has  been  an  excellent 
dinner,  which  has  left  me  some  remorse  for  having  shown  so  much  moral 
weakness  and  so  much  physical  capacity.  You  do  not  know  the  pleasure 
of  feeling  a  passion  for  your  food.  I  assure  you  that  I  have  been  feeling 
it  for  the  last  twelve  or  fifteen  days,  and  the  doctors,  in  their  ignorant 
cruelty,  declare  that  it  is  a  bad  symptom  for  my  chest.  If  I  could  only 
soothe  my  cough,  I  should  not  trouble  myself  about  their  prophecies.'-8 


A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

nine  times,  and  in  his  intervals  of  apparent  conval- 
escence was  still  subjected  to  the  same  kind  of 
treatment  as  a  precautionary  measure !  It  must  be 
conceded  that  the  Spanish  physicians,  who  were 
mainly  responsible  in  this  case,  were  more  thorough 
in  their  devotion  to  phlebotomy  than  their  colleagues 
beyond  the  Pyrenees,  but  the  difference  was  emphatic- 
ally not  of  kind  but  of  degree.  On  one  occasion 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  herself  was  bled  twice 
from  the  foot  as  a  remedy  for  earache  (!),  and  in  a 
letter  to  her  brother,  Abel,  she  recommends  the 
surgeon  *  whom  she  generally  employs  for  the  purpose 
of  bloodletting,  much  as  people  nowadays  recommend 
a  favourite  dentist.  Yet  plainly  she  had  not  unlimited 
faith  in  this  method  of  treatment,  and  repeatedly 
speaks  of  trying  to  avoid  bleeding  if  possible,  by 
using  more  harmless  means,  such  as  the  warm 
bath. 

Since  such  were  her  feelings  it  was  only  natural 
that  she  should  shrink  from  submitting  to  a  regular 
course  of  treatment,  yet  by  the  agonised  entreaties 
of  her  friends  she  was  at  last  prevailed  upon  to  con- 
sult Bordeu,  one  of  the  most  famous  physicians  of 
the  day,  and,  as  was  noted  in  a  former  chapter,  an 
enthusiastic  advocate  of  the  starving  system.  To  do 
him  justice,  his  verdict  on  her  case  seems  to  have 
been  neither  inhuman  nor  unintelligent.  It  was  really 
her  mental  condition  which  was  in  fault,  he  said,  and 
if  that  could  be  ameliorated  she  might  recover,  but, 
otherwise  there  was  little  hope,  and  it  does  not 

1  He  only  charges  half-a-crown  a  time,  and  is  quite  good  enough,  in 
her  opinion  ;  but  she  shrewdly  suggests  that  perhaps  Abel's  wife  (who  is 
out  of  sorts)  will  prefer  a  surgeon  of  more  reputation  at  a  fee  of  five 
shillings. 


REQUIESCAT  325 

appear  that  he  insisted  upon  remedies  which  he 
plainly  enough  saw  to  be  useless.  He  did  not  even 
suggest  that  final  and  often  marvellously  successful 
experiment,  change  of  air  and  scene.  Such  a  pre- 
scription would  indeed  have  been  to  no  purpose. 
Julie  de  Lespinasse  was  as  ingrained  a  town  dweller 
as  Samuel  Johnson  himself,  and  in  her  life  there  was 
not  even  a  journey  to  the  Hebrides,  or  a  "jaunt"  to 
Lichfield.  In  all  the  years  that  she  lived  in  the 
metropolis,  she  never  quitted  it  for  more  than  a  visit 
of  a  few  days  to  some  country  house  in  the  environs, 
and  of  late  even  this  amount  of  exertion  had  become 
distasteful  to  her.  It  would  have  been  out  of  the 
question  for  her  in  her  present  condition  to  encounter 
the  fatigues  of  travelling. 

With  the  advance  of  winter  (1775-6)  her  sufferings 
manifestly  increased.  "  I  am  so  cold,  so  cold,"  she 
writes.  "  My  thermometer  is  twenty  degrees  below 
that  of  Reaumur,"  and  again.  "  I  am  freezing,  shiver- 
ing, dying  of  cold.  ...  It  is  a  perpetual  state  of 
torture."  To  anyone  in  this  abnormal  condition  of 
chilliness,  the  Parisian  winter  must  have  been  a  severe 
trial  indeed,  both  as  regards  the  rigors  of  the  atmos- 
phere, and  the  very  inadequate  precautions  taken 
against  them.  We  remember  Horace  Walpole's  lively 
description  of  how  it  struck  a  contemporary. 

"  Lapland  is  the  torrid  zone  in  comparison  with 
Paris.  We  have  had  such  a  frost  this  fortnight,"  he 
caustically  proceeds,  "  that  I  went  nine  miles  to  dine 
in  the  country  to-day,  in  a  villa  exactly  like  a  green- 
house, except  that  there  was  no  fire  but  in  one  room. 
.  .  .  We  dined  in  a  paved  hall  painted  in  fresco,  with 
a  fountain  at  one  end  ;  for  in  this  country  they  live  in 
a  perpetual  opera,  and  persist  in  being  young  when 


326  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

they  are  old,  and  hot  when  they  are  frozen.  ...  I  am 
come  home,  and  blowing  my  billets1  between  every  para- 
graph, yet  can  scarce  move  my  fingers."  And  again  : 
"  we  were  two-and-twenty  at  the  Marechale  de  Luxem- 
bourg's, and  supped  in  a  temple  rather  than  in  a  hall. 
It  is  vaulted  at  top  with  gods  and  goddesses,  and 
paved  with  marble  ;  but  the  god  of  fire  was  not  of  the 
number." 

Such  would  be  the  state  of  things  encountered  by 
Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  every  time  she  stirred 
from  her  own  small,  and  therefore  comparatively  cozy, 
rooms,  where  we  may  hope  that  respectable  fires  were 
kept  burning.  To  make  the  matter  worse,  it  appears 
that  she,  like  most  ladies  of  that  period,  wore  practi- 
cally no  clothing  underneath.  A  muslin  petticoat  lined 
with  cotton  wool  is  the  nearest  approach  to  a  warm 
inner  garment  that  I  have  been  able  to  discover  in 
the  inventory  of  her  wardrobe.  On  the  other  hand, 
furs  for  outdoor  wear  were  extremely  popular,  with  both 
sexes,  and  with  these  she  was  well  provided.  Several 
mantles  and  pelisses  of  satin  lined  with  ermine  and 
silver-fox,  and  muffs 2  of  blue  fox,  grebe,  cock's  feathers, 
and  sable  figure  in  the  catalogue  so  often  referred  to. 

Meanwhile  Guibert,  who,  partly  through  the  interest 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,  had  obtained  what  we 
should  call  a  War  Office  appointment,  was  settled  for 
the  winter  in  Paris,  along  with  his  wife  and  her  family. 
During  these  last  sad  months,  he  appears,  it  must  be 

1  Fire-logs. 

2  Muffs  were  then  carried  by  gentlemen  as  well  as  ladies.   Mademoiselle 
de  Lespinasse  sent  one  as  a  present  to  Guibert,  who  made  the  not  very 
delicate  remark  that  it  must  have  been  expensive,  and  that  therefore  he 
ought  either  to  decline  or  pay  for  it !     "  For  shame,"  she  replied.     "  You 
may  be  quite  sure  /  should  not  give  it  you  if  it  were  expensive.     Lest  you 
should  perish  from  cold  as  well  as  shame,  I  send  it  you  back  for  your 
dinner-party  to-day." 


REQUIESCAT  327 

owned,  to  more  advantage  than  usual.  At  the  out- 
set, indeed,  he  showed  himself  entirely  ready  to  forget 
his  obligations  to  the  fair  and  gentle  girl  who  had 
given  her  life  into  his  keeping,  but  Julie  de  Lespinasse 
was  resolute  that  such  a  wrong  should  not  happen 
through  her,  and  when  he  realised  this  a  new 
reverence  appeared  in  his  attitude  towards  her. 
Henceforth,  his  behaviour  is  that  of  a  devoted  and 
respectful  friend.  It  is  true  that  at  first  he  hurt  her 
deeply  by  his  inability  to  recognise  how  desperate  was 
her  physical  condition.  Like  Mrs  Dombey's  sister- 
in-law,  he  seems  to  have  urged  upon  her  the  necessity 
of  "making  an  effort."  Her  reply  has  all  the  irrita- 
bility of  a  justly  outraged  invalid. 

"  My  dear  friend,  you  are  really  splendid  at  giving 
advice,  and  whether  it  is  from  sympathy,  or  because 
my  sufferings  bore  you,  I  cannot  possibly  do  better, 
as  you  say,  than  try  to  follow  it.  You  treat  my  cough, 
my  loss  of  flesh,  my  sleeplessness,  my  internal  troubles 
as  if  they  were  mere  fine  ladies'  fancies,  such  as 
wearing  a  pagoda  on  your  head  or  walking  on  one 
heel.  You  would  like  to  cure  me  by  moral  treatment. 
My  dear  friend,  how  young  you  must  be !  For  I 
do  not  like  to  say  that  you  are  very  cold  and  indiffer- 
ent. Believe  me,  neither  my  own  will,  nor  anything 
in  nature  could  save  me  now.  No,  not  the  resurrec- 
tion of  M.  de  Mora,  the  highest  good  that  I  can 
imagine,  could  change  my  fate." 

Guibert's  best  excuse  for  this  apparent  want  of 
feeling  is  contained  in  his  own  words,  written  immedi- 
ately after  Julie's  death  : 

"  She  was  so  active,  so  animated,  so  much  alive ! 


328  A   STAR    OF   THE   SALONS 

Alas !  for  the  last  two  years,  it  was  her  mind  which 
deceived  my  anxieties,  and  laid  my  fears  to  sleep. 
Every  day,  I  saw  her  grow  paler  and  weaker.  But 
her  intellect  had  never  been  so  brilliant,  her  affections 
never  so  active.  '  She  cannot,  cannot  be  dying ! '  I 
said  to  myself,  each  time  I  took  leave  of  her.  So 
much  life  should  surely  be  proof  against  death,  and  I 
could  as  soon  have  imagined  the  extinction  of  the  sun 
as  the  decease  of  Eliza.1 " 

Others  besides  Guibert  testify  to  this  remarkable 
activity  of  intellect  maintained  almost  to  the  very  last. 
"  You  would  still  find  her  interesting  and  animated  in 
the  midst  of  her  sufferings  and  of  her  daily  increasing 
weakness,"  writes  Morellet,  two  months  before  her 
death,  to  her  English  admirer,  Lord  Shelburne.  And 
her  own  letters  contain  abundant  evidence  of  the 
interest  which  she  still  felt  in  her  friends  and  every- 
thing concerning  them.  For  one  (M.  de  Saint  Cha- 
mans)  she  exerts  herself  to  procure  an  exemption  from 
military  duty,  essential,  as  she  thinks,  if  his  life  is 
to  be  saved.  Another  (Lomenie  de  Brienne)  has 
symptoms  which  alarm  her,  and  she  anxiously  cross- 
examines  Bordeu  as  to  the  real  chances  of  his 
recovery.  She  writes  the  most  shrewd  and  sound 
advice  to  Guibert  in  regard  to  his  bearing  towards  his 
official  superiors,  with  whom  he  seems  much  inclined 
to  quarrel.  The  melancholy  condition  of  Madame 
Geoffrin,  who  had  temporarily  rallied  from  an  attack 
of  paralysis  destined  within  two  years  to  prove  fatal, 
affects  her  with  an  emotion  beyond  the  power  of  her  own 
sufferings  to  produce.  "  It  was  a  pleasure  mixed  with 

i  This  absurd  pseudonym  is  borrowed  from  Eliza  Draper,  the  beloved 
of  Sterne. 


REQUIESCAT  329 

pain  to  see  her  once  more.  Ah !  she  grieved  me 
deeply,  for  I  seemed  to  see  her  death  nearer  at  hand 
than  my  own.  I  could  not  restrain  my  tears  in  her 
presence,  I  was  heartbroken." 

Till  within  two  or  three  months  of  the  end,  she 
endeavoured  to  continue  her  ordinary  course  of  life, 
receiving  her  circle  in  the  evenings,  and  "dragging 
herself"  (the  phrase  is  her  own)  to  social  gatherings, 
where,  as  she  says,  she  sometimes  coughed  to  such  an 
extent  as  to  deafen  the  whole  company.  But  at  last 
she  became  unable  to  leave  her  own  rooms,  or  to  see 
anyone  but  a  few  chosen  friends.  Guibert  was  of 
the  number.  His  anxieties  were  at  last  thoroughly 
aroused,  and  no  mark  of  attention  or  solicitude  was 
wanting  on  his  part.  He  put  aside  his  official  duties 
whenever  they  would  have  interfered  with  his  daily 
visits  to  the  invalid  ;  he  confided  to  her  his  most  secret 
literary  projects  ;  he  ran  to  and  fro  on  her  errands, 
spending  hours  in  arranging  for  a  change  of  house 
desired  by  her,  though  doubtless  he  knew  all  along 
that  she  was  far  too  weak  ever  to.  carry  out  this  last 
pathetic  caprice.  Some  of  his  expressions  seem  in- 
deed to  indicate  that  his  shallow,  self-centred  nature 
was  stirred  to  an  altogether  unwonted  depth,  and  that 
he  now,  for  the  first  time,  realised  how  much  the  dying 
woman  had  been  to  him.  "  I  must  say  it,"  he  writes, 
"  because  when  I  search  my  own  heart  I  find  that 
such  is  my  innermost  thought — if  I  had  to  choose 
between  the  loss  of  you  and  of  everyone  else  that  I 
know,  I  should  not  hesitate !  " 

The  poor  sufferer  could  not  but  be  soothed  by  his 
tenderness,  but  the  conviction  (no  doubt  well  founded) 
that  his  grief  would  not  be  of  long  duration  imparts 
a  certain  sad  irony  to  her  gratitude  for  these  tardy 


330  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

marks  of  affection.  "  You  are  the  most  kind-hearted, 
and  most  light-minded  of  men,"  she  writes  to  him, 
on  hearing  that  he  has  sent  twice  during  one  night 
to  inquire  for  her.  "  But,  once  more,  I  entreat  you 
to  be  calm.  You  will  only  increase  my  sufferings." 
To  be  permitted  to  depart  in  peace  is  now  her  one 
prevailing  desire,  and  she  ceases  not  to  look  forward 
longingly  to  her  deliverance  from  a  life  which  had 
grown  insupportably  weary. 

The  end  came  on  the  morning  of  May  the  22nd.1 
For  some  days  before,  Guibert  was  forbidden  to 
enter  her  room,  but  could  not  tear  himself  from  the 
house,  and  passed  all  his  spare  time  in  d'Alembert's 
apartment  upstairs,  plunged  in  a  frenzy  of  grief.  The 
dying  woman's  face  had  been  distorted  by  a  nervous 
convulsion  of  unusual  severity,  and  she  could  not 
endure  the  thought  that  such  an  element  of  horror 
and  grotesqueness  should  be  imparted  to  his  last  im- 
pression of  her.  But  those  two  faithful  friends,  of 
whom  she  had  formerly  said  that  they  were  to  her 
"as  a  part  of  herself,"  d'Alembert  and  Condorcet,2 
were  permitted  to  remain  with  her  to  the  end.  There 
was  another  watcher  by  the  bed  of  death — her  brother, 
Abel  .de  Vichy,  the  only  one  of  all  her  kin  who  had 
not  been  a  good  deal  less  than  kind  in  his  dealings 
with  her.  As  a  loyal  Catholic  was  bound  to  do,  he 
urged  upon  her  the  duty  of  reconciliation — even  at 
this  eleventh  hour — with  the  Church,  and  a  passage 
in  one  of  his  letters,  quoted  by  the  Marquis  de 
Se"gur,  records  that  his  efforts  were  crowned  with 

1 1776. 

3  Turgot  had  been  dismissed  from  office  ten  days  before  her  death,  but 
she  was  then  probably  too  far  gone  to  realise  this  catastrophe,  which 
meant  the  undoing  of  all  his  noble  work. 


REQUIESCAT  331 

success.1  "  She  received  the  last  sacraments,"  he  says, 
"  in  despite  of  all  the  powers  of  the  Encyclopedia  "  (i.e. 
of  d'Alembert  and  Condorcet),  and  passed  away  "in  a 
most  Christian  frame  of  mind."  I  leave  it  to  the 
reader  to  determine  whether  it  is  more  likely  that 
she  could,  on  half-an-hour's  persuasion,  so  far  depart 
from  the  convictions  of  a  lifetime  as  to  accept,  en  masse, 
the  dogmas  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  (for  that 
is  what  the  word  Christian  would  have  implied  both 
to  Abel  and  to  her),  or  that,  with  her  usual  averseness 
to  giving  pain,  she  shrank  from  wounding  the  honest 
and  good  heart  which  was  concerned  for  her  eternal 
welfare.  Yet,  in  truth,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to 
explain  her  action  without  resorting  to  either  alter- 
native. Few  people  then  cared  to  brave  the  penalties 
of  dying  excommunicated,  and  we  have  no  reason  to 
think  that  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  even  setting  aside 
the  intervention  of  Abel,  would  have  been  among 
the  number.  She  had  never  ceased  to  hear  Mass  on 
Sundays,  and  when  special  services  were  instituted, 
on  the  occasion  of  a  jubilee,  she  had  to  a  certain 
extent  attended  them.  Several  times  in  her  letters 
she  represents  herself,  in  the  most  natural  manner, 
as  looking  forward  to  her  last  resting-place  at  St 
Sulpice — her  parish  church.  It  is  probable  that,  in 
her  heart  of  hearts,  she  still  retained  a  vague  yearning 
affection  for  the  faith  of  her  childhood,  and  could  not 
endure  the  thought  of  cutting  herself  adrift  from  all 
its  hallowed  associations. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  d'Alembert  to 
approve  this  act  of  submission  to  the  ecclesiastical 
authority,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  he  opposed  that 

1  The  expenses  of  the  administration  of  the  Sacraments  are  duly  noted 
among  the  claims  on  the  deceased's  estate. 


332  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

strenuous  resistance  by  which,  in  the  case  of  Madame 
Geoffrin,  he  afterwards,  not  much  to  his  honour, 
distinguished  himself.  His  whole  energies,  in  truth, 
were  absorbed  by  that  approaching  sorrow  which 
was  to  leave  him,  as  he  expressed  it,  "alone  in  the 
universe."  The  agony  of  parting  was  still  further 
enhanced  by  that  miserable  atmosphere  of  misunder- 
standing which,  for  several  years  back,  had  embittered 
his  relations  with  the  dying  woman.  It  is  true  that 
there  had  been  many  intervals  in  which  the  old  tender- 
ness had  seemed  on  her  side  to  revive  in  all  its  former 
fulness.  "There  is  no  one  I  care  for  more  than  for 
you,  no  one  so  necessary  to  my  happiness,  no  one  else 
for  whose  sake  I  wish  to  live,"  she  had  said  to  him 
ten  months  before  her  death,  when  the  reaction  pro- 
duced by  Guibert's  marriage  was  at  its  height.  And 
a  few  months  later  she  had  assured  him  with  a  sigh  : 
"  You  are  the  only  person  I  ever  loved  who  has  not 
made  me  unhappy."  Undoubtedly  these  words  ex- 
pressed the  conviction  of  her  calmer  moments,  but 
when  the  tide  of  misery  swept  back  over  her  she  was 
unable,  though  she  often  struggled  hard,  to  control  her 
temper,  and  in  the  unreasoning  irritability  of  bodily 
and  mental  disease  poor  d'Alembert  saw  only  aversion 
to  himself.  He  racked  his  brains  to  discover  what 
ground  for  resentment  he  could  possibly  have  given 
her,  and  amongst  other  strange  conjectures,  imagined 
that  she  suspected  him,  of  all  men,  of  leading  an  im- 
moral life  !  Repeatedly,  he  was  on  the  point  of  asking 
her  for  an  explanation,  but  she  seemed  to  shrink  from 
anything  approaching  a  scene,  and  the  fear  that 
agitation  might  be  dangerous  for  her  restrained  him 
from  speaking. 

But  on  Julie's  side  no  self-deception  existed.     She 


REQUIESCAT  333 

knew  well  that  the  blame  of  their  estrangement 
rested  with  her,  and  not  with  him,  and  on  the  night 
of  her  death  she  gathered  together  her  remaining 
strength  to  implore  his  forgiveness  for  all  the  wrong 
that  she  had  done  him,  all  the  pain  that  she  had 
brought  him.  A  torrent  of  heartfelt  assurances 
rushed  immediately  to  his  lips,  but  this  last  effort 
had  so  exhausted  her  failing  forces  that  she  was 
unable  any  longer  to  understand  what  was  said,  and 
he  ever  afterwards  cherished  the  agonising  conviction 
that  she  had  died  believing  herself  unforgiven. 

For  some  hours  after  she  lay  in  a  state  of  semi- 
unconsciousness.  Once,  she  raised  her  head,  and 
looking  around  her  said  with  an  air  of  surprise  :  "  Am 
I  still  alive  ? "  They  were  her  last  words.  At  two  in 
the  morning  she  passed  away,  apparently  without  pain. 

The  funeral  took  place  next  day  at  St  Sulpice, 
d'Alembert  and  Condorcet  being  chief  mourners.  By 
her  own  express  wish,  the  last  observances  were 
rendered  in  very  simple  fashion  and  a  hideous 
custom l  then  prevalent,  of  laying  out  the  dead  in 
front  of  their  homes,  as  a  spectacle  for  all  who  passed 
by,  was  omitted. 

Her  will,  written  with  her  own  hand  three  months 
previously,  has  an  individuality  rarely  found  in  such 
documents,  and  the  spirit  in  which  all  its  provisions 
are  conceived  and  expressed,  helps  us  to  understand 
why  this  woman  was  beloved  beyond  the  ordinary 
measure  of  humanity.  D'Alembert  is  appointed 
executor  in  these  terms. 

"  I  beg  M.  d'Alembert,  in  the  name  of  the  friend - 

i  Mercier  alludes  to  this  practice  with  disapproval  in  his  "  Tableau  de 
Paris." 


334  A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 

ship  which  he  has  always  shown  me,  to  have  the  kind- 
ness to  execute  this  will.  ...  I  entreat  his  pardon  a 
thousand  times  for  all  the  trouble  that  I  shall  give 
him,  but  I  beg  him,  in  matters  of  detail,  to  leave  as 
much  as  possible  of  the  work  to  others." 

The  first  legacies  recorded  are  to  her  servants. 
Her  maid,  "who  has  been  with  me  a  long  time,  and 
who  gives  me  great  satisfaction,"  has  all  her  mistress' 
wardrobe,  and  is  besides  residuary  legatee.1  The 
footman  receives  two  years'  wages,2  his  clothes  and 
his  bed.  A  poor  charwoman,  "of  whom  I  am  fond," 
has  thirteen  pounds,  and  a  similar  sum  is  left  to  her 
young  son,  who  had  likewise  been  employed  in  the 
establishment.  Their  legacies  are  to  be  paid  them  as 
soon  as  possible,  "because  they  are  in  want." 

Then  follow  the  bequests  to  intimate  friends,  acquir- 
ing a  peculiar  value  by  the  tact  and  grace  with 
which  they  are  in  each  case  adapted  to  the  recipient. 
Guibert  is  to  have  all  her  English  books.  Condorcet, 
the  busts  of  Voltaire  and  d' Alembert,  and  such  of  her 
engravings  as  he  cares  to  select.  Madame  de  Saint 
Chamans,  her  rosewood  dressing-table.  "  I  hope 
that,  as  I  had  it  in  constant  use,  it  will  sometimes 
serve  to  recall  my  affection  for  her."  Madame 
Geoffrin,  "who  is  so  dear  to  me,  and  has  lavished 
such  kindness  upon  me,"  is  entreated  to  accept  her 
little  marble  bird  with  the  pedestal  of  beaten  gold. 
To  Dr  Roux,  her  physician  in  ordinary,  "who  has 
shown  me  so  much  kindness  and  attention,"  she 
bequeaths  her  watch  and  clock,  "as  a  very  slight 

1  The  cook  had  been  in  the  service  of  the  deceased  for  only  a  fortnight 
at  the  time  of  her  death.     Hence,  doubtless,  the  omission  of  her  name. 

2  One  year's  wages  by  the  will,  and  another  by  verbal  direction  of  the 
deceased  to  d'Alembert. 


REQUIESCAT  335 

token  of  my  gratitude."  To  d'Alembert,  "as  a  token 
of  my  affectionate  friendship,"  her  "  rosewood  writing- 
desk  with  its  marble  stand,  a  great  rosewood  cabinet 
where  I  keep  my  books,  and  a  rosewood  chiffonniere 
with  nine  drawers,  I  have  heard  him  say  that  he  liked 
to  have  many  drawers." 

The  will  was  supplemented  by  a  sealed  letter 
addressed  to  d'Alembert,  and  dated  a  week  before  her 
death.  It  begins  with  these  pathetic  words  : 

"  I  owe  everything  to  you.  I  am  so  confident  of 
your  affection  that  I  mean  to  employ  all  the  strength 
left  me  to  endure  a  life  which  no  longer  allows  me 
anything  to  hope  or  fear.  .  .  .  Yet,  as  I  cannot  feel 
sufficiently  sure  of  my  own  will,  and  it  might  easily 
be  overcome  by  despair,  I  take  the  precaution  of 
writing  to  beg  you  to  burn,  without  reading  them,  all 
the  papers  which  you  will  find  in  a  large  black  port- 
folio. I  have  not  the  courage  to  touch  them  myself. 
It  would  kill  me  to  see  the  handwriting  of  my  friend" 
(i.e.  Mora). 

Then  follow  certain  business  details.  She  leaves 
behind  her  only  fifty  pounds  in  cash,  and  out  of  these 
forty  pounds  are  owing  to  d'Alembert  himself,  but 
several  of  her  dividends  are  due,  and  there  will  be  much 
more  than  enough  to  pay  her  debts  and  her  "  little 
legacies." 

The  letter  ends  thus  : 

"Farewell,  dear  friend,  do  not  regret  me.  Re- 
member that  by  leaving  this  life  I  shall  find  rest, 
which  I  could  no  longer  hope  for  here.  .  .  .  Once 
more,  forget  me.  Take  care  of  yourself,  life  should 
still  have  interest  for  you.  Your  goodness  should 


336  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

bring  you  happiness.  .  .  .  My  death  is  but  a  proof  of 
the  love  I  bore  to  M.  de  Mora.  His  death  proves 
but  too  plainly  that  he  returned  it  in  a  way  that 
you  never  imagined.  Alas !  when  you  read  this,  I 
shall  be  delivered  from  the  burden  that  is  crushing 
me.  .  .  .  Farewell,  dear  friend,  for  ever." 

By  a  clause  in  the  will,  d'Alembert,  in  case  her 
debts  should  exceed  her  assets,  was  to  apply  for  help 
to  Abel  de  Vichy,  here  styled  her  nephew,  but  this 
measure,  as  the  testatrix  had  foreseen,  proved  alto- 
gether unnecessary.  Save  for  the  forty  pounds  due  to 
d'Alembert,  her  debts  were  of  an  unimportant  descrip- 
tion. Twenty-five  pounds  to  the  cabinetmaker,  thir- 
teen to  the  milliner,  four  to  the  chemist,  are  by  far  the 
largest  items.  When  her  estate  was  finally  wound  up, 
and  all  liabilities  had  been  discharged,  a  surplus  of 
^"430  accrued  to  \hefemme-de-ck.ambre,  her  residuary 
legatee,  who  forthwith  purchased  a  life  annuity  at  ten 
per  cent.  In  view  of  these  circumstances  I  cannot 
help  thinking  that  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  was 
fairly  entitled  to  the  reputation  of  a  good  economist 
— a  reputation  which  she  greatly  coveted,  but  which 
M.  de  Se"gur — in  other  respects  the  most  appreciative 
of  her  biographers — seems  inclined  to  deny  her. 

In  performing  the  duties  of  executor,  d'Alembert, 
who  appears  to  have  been  a  good  man  of  business, 
might  have  found  some  distraction  from  his  over- 
whelming sorrow ;  but,  unhappily,  those  very  duties 
led  to  a  discovery  which  increased  it  tenfold.  He  was 
too  honourable  to  examine  the  letters  which  he  had 
been  charged  to  burn,  but  there  were  many  manu- 
scripts protected  by  no  such  injunction  to  be  looked 
over  and  classified,  and  amongst  these  one,  entirely 


REQUIESCAT  337 

in  Julie's  writing,  attracted  his  attention.  He 
opened  it  with  a  melancholy  interest,  but  no  fore- 
boding of  evil,  and  found  that  it  contained  a  full 
account  of  her  relations  with  Mora, l  their  mutual 
passion,  and  their  hopes  of  union.  The  allusion  in 
her  testamentary  letter  had  in  no  way  prepared 
d'Alembert  for  this  disclosure,  and  the  result  was  at  first 
a  terrible  revulsion  of  feeling — a  sensation  of  almost 
intolerable  wrong.  That  extraordinary  fatality  which 
in  this  matter  attended  his  every  action  induced  him 
to  seek  for  comfort  in  the  sympathy  of — the  Comte 
de  Guibert !  But  his  strangely  chosen  confidant 
demeaned  himself — on  this  occasion — like  a  gentleman, 
and  though  d'Alembert  knew  that  Mora  had  been 
preferred  to  himself  he  never  knew  that  Guibert  had 
been  preferred  to  both. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  sympathise  deeply  with  the 
man  whose  heartwhole  devotion  had  received  so 
inadequate  a  return.  Yet  it  is  equally  impossible  to 
feel  that,  in  accepting  Mora  as  a  lover,  Julie  wronged 
d'Alembert  otherwise  than  by  withholding  from  him 
her  confidence.  And  if  we  consider  the  anguish 
which  such  a  confidence  must  inevitably  have  caused 
him,  and  her  own  uncertainty  as  to  whether  the 
betrothal  would  ever  result  in  a  marriage,  we  cannot 
but  allow  that  there  was  much  to  excuse  her  dissimula- 
tion. 

Against  Mora  himself,  on  the  other  hand,  her  sin, 
as  she  never  failed  to  recognise,  was  undoubtedly 
grave.  By  strict  rules  of  justice,  indeed,  it  must  be 
considered  the  one  serious  blot  upon  her  character. 

1  This  document,  to  which  Madame  Suard  alludes,  had  evidently  been 
overlooked  by  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse  when  making  her  final 
dispositions.  Unhappily  it  is  now  impossible  to  trace  it. 

Y 


338  A   STAR   OF  THE   SALONS 

For,  as  regards  the  breach  of  abstract  morality,  we 
cannot  too  often  remind  ourselves  that,  for  a  woman 
with  her  antecedents  and  environment,  the  remarkable 
thing  is — not  that  she  should  have  been  guilty  of  it, 
but — that  her  life  should  otherwise  have  been 
irreproachable. 

Yet  Julie  de  Lespinasse  never  ceased  to  believe 
that  if  Mora  had  lived  to  know  all  he  would  have 
forgiven  her.  D'Alembert,  we  know,  did  live  to 
forgive  her.  So  much  is  plain  from  those  heart- 
broken outpourings l  which  show  him,  amid  his  bitter 
disillusionment,  still  clinging  to  the  belief  that,  could 
she  have  realised  his  readiness  to  pardon  all,  she 
might,  at  long  last,  have  learned  to  love  him  as  he 
loved  her.  Surely,  then,  it  is  scarcely  for  us  to  be 
severe  in  condemning  her. 

Across  the  intervening  gulf  of  over  a  hundred 
years,  her  unique  and  fascinating  personality  pleads 
with  us  on  her  behalf,  as  it  pleaded  then  even  with 
those  who  had  suffered  through  her  fault.  We  find 
in  her  some  things  which  we  needs  must  blame,  but 
far  more  to  be  admired,  pitied,  and  loved. 

luAux  Manes  de  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse,''  and  "Sur  la  Tombe 
de  Mademoiselle  de  Lespinasse." 


INDEX 


ACADEMIE    FRAN£AISE,   141-143, 

188,313,314 
Aisstf,  Mademoiselle,  26,  43  (note\ 

94-97,  10 1 
D'Albert,    Mademoiselle,  writes  a 

society  novel  while  still  a  girl  at 

school,  45,  55 
D'Albon,  Camille  de,  2,  4,  7-10,43, 

52,  65-67,  69,  70,  234 
D'Albon,  Comtesse  de,  i-io 
D'Alembert,     possible    origin     of 

name,  114  (note) 
D'Alembert,  Jean, 

Exposed  on  the  steps  of  St  Jean 
le  Rond,  109 

His  education,  110-113 

Sub-editor  of  Encyclopedia,  113,. 

|37,  145 

Friendship  with  Madame  du 
Deffand,  115 

Introduction  to  Julie  de  Lespin- 
asse,  86,  119 

Favours  Italian  music,  128 

His  theological  attitude,  134-136, 
141,  149 

Defends  the  stage  against  Rous- 
seau, 145,  147,  148 

Quarrels  with  Madame  du  Def- 
fand over  The  Philosophers, 
162 

His  visit  to  Prussia,  125,  175,  176 

Sides  with  Julie  in  her  quarrel 
with  Madame  du  Deffand, 

183 
Rumours   of  his   marriage,  187, 

1 88,  208 
Dangerously  ill,  203 

339 


Takes  rooms  in  the  same  house 

with  Julie,  206 
Writes  to  Julie's  dictation,  227, 

231 
Anxious  for  Mora's  recovery,  263, 

275,  276 
Regrets  the  absence  of  Guibert, 

3°7,  308 
His  agony  of  sorrow  at  Julie's 

death,  332 

Appointed  her  executor,  333 
Discovers  her  love  for  Mora,  337 
Lives  to  forgive  her,  338 
D'Anlezy,  Comte,  103,  105 
D'Aranda,  Count,  219,  242 
Aubyn,     Felicite    de    Saint-    (see 

Madame  de  Genlis). 
Avauges,  Chateau  de,  2,  5 
D'Aydie,  Chevalier,  94-99,  107 


BEGGARS  under  Ancien   Regime, 

38,  39,  57 

Bellechasse,  Rue,  193, 194  (note),  199 
Bleeding,  212,  250,  262,  276  (note), 

323,  324 

Bolingbroke,  Lady,  96 
Bordeu,  Doctor,  20,  324,  325,  328 
Boufflers,  Comtesse  de,  219,    309 

(note) 

Boufflers,  Duchesse  de,  210  (note) 
Buffon,  134,  135,  140,  141 


CHAMPROND,  CHATEAU  DE,  :  i 
Chastellux,  Chevalier  de,  179,  215, 
311  (note) 


340 


A    STAR    OF   THE    SALONS 


Chatelet,  Madame  du,  14,  49 
Chatillon,   Madame  de,    182,  190, 

199,  219,  225 
Clairon,     Mademoiselle,     151-156, 

158,  160 
"Clarissa,"  Richardson's,  56,  139, 

140 
College  des  Quatre  Nations,   112, 

120,  133,  313  (note) 
Comedie  Franchise,  126,  148,  150, 

152,  154,  155,  156,  158 
Comte,  Rue  Michel  le,'i  18,  204,  205, 

206 
Condorcet,   Marquis  de,  219,  225- 

234,  251,  253,  255,  256,  261,  262, 

294,  295,  299,  330,  331,  333,  334 
Convents,  usefulness  of,  53-60 
Conversation,   general,  a  lost  art, 

221 
Courcelles,         Mademoiselle       de 

(Madame  de  Guibert),   300-304, 

316 


D'Epinay,  Madame,  15,  16 
D'Epinay,  Mousieur,  13 
D'Ette,  Mademoiselle,  190 


FARINES,  GUERRE  DE  (Corn  Law 
riots)  296-299 

Fashions  in  dress  and  hair  arrange- 
ment, 23,  46,  85,  123,  155,  200, 
201,  217,319 

Ferriol,  Madame  de,  95,  96,  101 

Ferriol,  Monsieur  de,  95,  96 

Frederic  of  Prussia,  121,  122,  125, 
175,  176,258,  259,273 

Fronsac,  de  (son  of  the  Due  de 
Richelieu),  20,  21,  in 

Fuentes,  Count  de,  240,  241,  248, 
249,  250,  280,  281 


D 


DEFFAND,    MADAME   DU,    45-52, 

61-72,  76-83.  87,88,  92,93,  115, 

116,    117-120,   162-164,   169-186, 

189,  208,  295 
Delaunay,  Mademoiselle  (Madame 

de  Staal)  26,  29,  49,  59,  60,  239, 
Destouches,  Chevalier,  the  father 

of  d'Alembert,  109,  no,  112 
Devreux  (femme  de  chambre),  76, 

84,  165 
Diderot,  106, 113,  127, 136, 137, 145, 

146,  156,  157,  158,  161 
Dinners,  30,  31,  32,  118,  214,  215, 

216 
Dominique,  Rue  St,  76,  193,  194 


ENCYCLOPEDIA,  ii3-n5>  I26,  127, 
136,  137,  138,  141-146 


GABELLE  (salt  tax)  37,  38 

Geneva,  144 

Genlis,    Madame    de   (Felicite    de 

Saint-Aubyn),  12,  14,  15,  16,  18, 

20,  21,  23,  25,  30,  33,  34,  36,  55, 

59,  85,  107,  314 
Geoffrin,  Madame,   115,   191,  192, 

198,  199,  202,  206,  215,  216,  217, 

225,  328,  332,  334 
Gluck,  131  (note) 
Graffigny,  Madame  de,  288 
Greuze,  195,  300,  315 
Grimm,  15,  45,  102,  127,  128,  130, 

131,  215,  218,  220,  221,  227 
Guibert,  Comte  de, 

His  essay  on  Tactics,  258,  259 

First    impressions    of   Julie   de 
Lespinasse,  260 

His  foreign  tour,  266-272 

In  love  with  Julie,  273 

Tells  her  he  must  marry  money, 
283,  285 


INDEX 


34 


Guibert,  Comte  de — continued 
Betrothed  to   Mademoiselle  de 

Courcelles,  300 
Marriage,  303 

His  essay  on  Catinat,  311,  312 
His    play     The    Constable,   316- 

321 
Deeply  moved  by  Julie's  death, 

327-330 
Keeps  the  secret  of  theirintimacy, 

275,  282  (note),  337 
His  eulogium  on  her,  14,  260 


H 


HELVETIUS,  MADAME,  288,  289 
Henault,  President,  47,  48,  50,  79, 

85,  86,  88  to  94,  105,  106,  107, 

114,  us,  ii9,  "I,  131,  142,  143, 

189,  190 

Henry,  Monsieur  Charles,  271 
Holbach,  215,  216  (note] 
Hume,  David,  15,  207,  209  (note\ 

212,  219 


I 


INOCULATION    in    England    and 
France,  210,  211,  236 


JOSEPH,  CONVENT  OF  ST,  76,  78, 
199 


LA  HARPE,  171,  223,  233,  234,  312, 

313 

Lauzun,  Due  de,  15,  17,  20,  211 
Lecouvreur,    Adrienne,    149,    150, 

IS' 
Lespinasse,  origin  of  name,  5 


Lespinasse,  Julie  de 
Birth  and  parentage,  i,  4,  5 
Education,  5,  8,  9,  14,  15,  16,  17, 

18 
Experience    as     governess     at 

Champrond,  n  et  seq. 
Makes   acquaintance   with   Ma- 
dame du  Deflfand,  51  et  seq, 
Boarder  in  a  convent  at  Lyon, 

52  et  seq. 
Painful      interview      with      her 

brother,  69,  234 
Arrives  in  Paris,  76 
Routine  of  her  life  with  Madame 

du  Deffand,  78  et  seq. 
Beginning  of  her  friendship  with 

d'Alembert,  107,  108,  119   120, 

131 

Her  literary  tastes,  140,  141,  228 

Her  tact  in  dealing  with  Ma- 
dame du  Deffand's  servants 
and  relations,  165  et  seq. 

In  love  with  an  Irishman,  170 
et  seq. 

Widening  breach  between  her 
and  Madame  du  Deffand,  173 
et  seq. 

Final  rupture,  181 

Establishes  a  salon  of  her  own, 
1 89  et  seq. 

Her  income  and  expenditure,  192 
et  seq. 

Joint  establishment  with  d'Alem- 
bert, 205  et  seq. 

Ill  with  small-pox,  210  et  seq. 

Admitted  to  Madame  Geoffrin's 
dinners,  216 

Her  management  of  her  salon, 
218  et  seq. 

Her  friendship  with  Condorcet, 
226  et  seq. 

First  meeting  with  Mora,  243 

Betrothal,  245  et  seq. 

Growing  estrangement  from 
d'Alembert,  252  et  seq. 

Introduced  to  Guibert,  260 


342 


A   STAR   OF   THE   SALONS 


Lespinasse,  Julie  de — continued 

Her 'first  letter'  to  him,  267  et  seq. 

Her  betrayal  of  Mora,  274,  275 

Attempts  suicide,  279 

Seeks  a  wife  for  Guibert,  284 

Meets  Lord  Shelburne,  292  et  seq. 

Her  sympathy  with  Turgot,  298 
ct  seq. 

Introduced  to  Guibert's  fiancee, 
302 

His  marriage  her  death-blow,  306 

Criticises  his  essay  on  Catinat, 
3",  312 

Advises  him  about  his  play  The 
Constable,  317,  321 

Her  gradual  decline,  322  ct  seq. 

Receives  the  last  sacraments,  331 

Her  death,  330 

Her  will,  333  et  seq. 
Louis  XV.,  141,  152,  286 
Louis  XVI.,  286,  290,  291,  297,  298, 

320 
Luxembourg,    Marechale    de,    99, 

100,  101,  105,  107,  175,  189,  190, 

326 


M 


MAINE,  DUCHESSE  DU,  48,  49 
Maintenon,  Madame  de,  46,  57,  73 
Marie   Antoinette,   286,   317,   319, 

320 
Marmontel,   56,   73,   74,   106,   in, 

120  (note\    154,    156,    179,    1 88 

(note),    205,   207,  215,  216,   220, 

223,  227,  238,  247,  253  (note),  255 
Mercier  ("Tableau  de  Paris"),  123, 

124,  197,  333  (note) 
Mistress,  meaning  of  the  word,  207 

(and  note) 

Montesquieu,  53,  134,  135,  140 
Montsauge,  Madame  de,  264,  270, 

271,  272,  282,  283 
Mora,  Marquis  de 

Marriage,  240 

A  widower,  241 


Mora,  Marquis  de — continued 
Meets  Julie  de  Lespinasse,  243 
Attacked  by  haemorrhage  of  the 

lungs,  249 
Parts  for  the  last  time  with  Julie, 

250 
At  home  in  Madrid,  262  et  seq., 

273 
Sets  out  for  Paris  and   dies  at 

Bordeaux,  277,  278 
Must  in  any  case  have  died  of 

consumption,  280 
Julie    writes    to    him   after    his 

death,  308 
Morellet,  Abbe,  74,   159,  160,  162, 

238,  286,  287,  289 
Music  (French  v.  Italian),  127-131 


N 


NECKER,  MADAME,  83,  206,  215 


PALISSOT,  CHARLES,  158-160,  162, 

163 
Paris  (in  eighteenth  century),  122- 

125,  193,  197,  198 
Phlipon,  Manon  (Madame  Roland), 

n,  14,  16,  18,  20,  57,  59,  63,  199, 

297,  313 

Pierre,  Bernadin  de  Saint,  223 
Pompadour,  Madame  de,  17,   129, 

130,  131 
Pont  de  Veyle,  101,  102,  103,  106 


R 


ROBECQ,    MADAME    DE,    157-160, 

162,  163 
Rousseau,  Jean-Jacques,  20,  21,  22, 

24,  33i  99>  101,  127,  128,  129,  139, 

140,  145,  147,  153,  207,  222 

Rousseau,    Madame    (d'Alembert's 
nurse),  109,  no,  113,  205,  206 


INDEX 


343 


SALON  (held  at  Louvre  in  eigh- 
teenth century),  314 

Segur,  Marquis  de  (quoted),  4,  6, 
ii,  43,  5°,  60,  170,  172,  199,  200, 
206,  208,  209  (note\  235,  239, 
243,  244,  248,  250,  253,  264,  269, 

273,311,  317,  330,336 
Shelburne,    Lord,    219,    292,    293, 

294 
Smallpox  (one    Frenchwoman    in 

four  disfigured  by),  210 
Suard,  225,  226,  227,  229 
Suard,   Madame,   200  (note),   202, 

225,  226,  229,  337  (note) 


TAAFFE,  Mr,  169-172,  177,  209 

Taille,  the,  37,  38 

Tencin,  Cardinal  de,  62,  67,  72,  73, 

109 
Tencin,  Madame  de  (d'Alembert's 

mother),  108-111,  191 
Terray,  Abbe,  290 
Tronchin,  Doctor,  210,  211,  212 
Turgot,  34,  179,  190,  219,  220,  225, 

226,  227,  287-292,  294-299,   330 

(note) 


U 

D'Uss£,  MADEMOISELLE,  230,  231 
D'Usse,  Marquis,  103,  105,  190 


VICHY,  ABEL  DE,  12,  29  (note),  51, 
166-169,  173,  189,  234-237,  324, 
330,331,336 

Vichy,  Diane  de,  6,  7,  10,  n,  12,  19, 

29,32,33,43,44,  5L  52,  57,  65, 

167,  235 
Vichy,  Gaspard  de,  6,  7,  8,  10,  n, 

12,   28,  33,   41-44,    50-52,   65-67, 

1 66,  167,  169,  189,  235 
Villa-Hermosa,  Duke  de,  246,  248, 

263,  264 
Voltaire,  49,  87,  93,  97,  107,  128, 

143,  144,  148,  149,  150,  152,  155, 

162,  163,  176,  187,  1 88,  204,  205, 

208,  248,  256,  259 

W 

WALPOLE,  HORACE,  90,  102,  107, 

295,  325,  326 
Watelet,  204,  260 


YOUNG,  ARTHUR,  30,  32,  73,  74- 

76,  122,  123,  l8o,  212 


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